


Like His Mother Before Him

by KailynBail



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dwarf Noble Origin, F/M, Gen, Grey Wardens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KailynBail/pseuds/KailynBail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paragon, Commander of the Grey, Warden-Commander Jarod Aeducan wasn't always as such. Exiled Prince of Orzammar beset to achieve the impossible with not but a handful of companions. Oh, many know the story but few know of the legacy he carried and fewer still of how he ensnared the heart of the most unlikely woman in all of Thedas. T'was not as easy as many were led to believe... nor was it as romantic and without heartache as they like to say. For dwarves are not without their own skills... the mysterious earth dwellers do like their secrets.</p><p>[There are currently 18 chapters, though it is unfinished as of 4/2016 with severe 'I have no idea where to go with this' from here, it's at a good stopping point though.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Commander

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: I deviate drastically from DA lore here, at least I thought I did when I started writing this back in 2012. Now, having played DA:I and things (I'll not say too much for those who have yet to play certain parts, so no spoilers here) I'm not so sure I was too far off DA lore with this fanfic. BUT it is still apart from newer lore. So, with that in mind... this fanfic also ignores Awakening, you'll see why (it just kind of happened, yes I played it and I adored it as well but it just happened) and some of the dialogue in DA:I would kind of fit here, I haven't really gotten to that part yet. I'm not completely done with this yet. Currently (4/28/16... yes I know, I take forever in finishing these things) I'm sitting at about 27k words. So, naturally, I've broken it down into chapters. I'm also not too familiar with AO3 yet, so bare with me on tagging and ratings. The current rating for this ENTIRE story is explicit because there are some naughty parts later on. Fair warning!

“You’re stalling.” Alistair’s disapproving tone came from across the fire. They were not alone, far from it for the odd group they had assembled during their travels. Jarod was brooding, staring at the flames. His face seemed less boyish than it once had, the travels wearing heavily on him. 

“I am not.” He countered, in a rather surly way.

“Liar.” Alistair rebutted, smirking at the Commander. A nick-name of sorts he had picked up using, having heard Duncan refer to the dwarf by such so many times.

“Okay… perhaps a little.” Jarod scrubbed his hands down his face with a heavy exhale, noting how well the tattoos had healed for he didn’t even feel the prick of heat anymore… permanent markings that, to those who knew their meaning, would follow him for the rest of his days. “We’ll set out for the Frostbacks in the morning. Now leave me be.” He rose from his seat on the stump and stalked off into the darkness. Alistair shook his head after him, turning to one of the other companions and falling into conversation with them on all that he had learned about dwarves, including their stubbornness. 

Jarod was not looking forward to the journey that lay before him. Alistair was right, he had been stalling. They held fast in their hands ancient treaties signed and honored by the humans and elves alike, but the dwarves had yet to be clued in to the fact that they too would soon be heading for the surface and joining in the war against the Blight. To say he was pleased to be returning home would be a lie of epic proportions. 

He finally stopped at the edge of the pool that was near the camp and began shucking his armor, leaving it in a pile on the bank he waded out into the moonlit waters, having little to no modesty, for he’d never had cause to have any. He glanced to his left, and then right, before he held his hands out on the surface of the cool water, facing his palms toward the earth he bowed his head. His deep baritone voice was not for anyone else’s ears but one other heard him speak. 

Morrigan had originally gone to the pool to fetch water to wash up for the night, not intending on finding the male there. She didn’t want to admit it, but she had grown rather fond of him, even though it had taken some getting used to, with his height… even if he was only a head’s length shorter than she. His jokes and the way he told them always drew at least a smirk out of her, which was difficult to do given the focus of many of his stories, which she supposed where hilarious to dwarves or men. She should have turned back and waited until the pool was clear but the unusual tenor coming from him gave her pause. The tone was somber and so sorrowful that she felt a stirring within her chest, a delicate pricking of her chilled heart.

Jarod’s deep voice rumbled low, a song of old, sung to the Ancestors for guidance… and strength. He hadn’t felt that deep connection to his past since he left the Deep Roads with Duncan, having grown up tethered to the stone, he had long ago took it for granted that he could easily converse with his Ancestors at will, seeking guidance from them on a whim. Humans and elf-kind alike, neither knew that the dwarves truly returned to the stone, that it wasn’t a phrase or belief, it was reality. Of all the luxuries he left behind, of all the honor and wealth, the relationships with his most trusted friend, Gorim, and his honored father, of all of this… he missed feeling the touch of his Ancestors and hearing their communal voice aiding him in his indecisions the most. His father had said that Jarod’s connection to the stone was like his Mother’s, and as such, unlike any other in Orzammar. Jarod’s Mother… a topic little discussed for the shame she brought her house, even though Jarod and his father alike believed it not a shame, but a mark of courage to reject the title of Paragon. Juna had felt herself no different than any other, had seen her gift of conversing with the stone nothing overly special, humble and graceful, she attempted to step down with dignity but the assembly would not have it, they condemned her and stripped her name, her title, and exiled her. Even though she was their Queen.. in Orzammar, only the King truly mattered and Jarod’s father had been ultimately powerless to stop it. Perhaps it was fitting that he too was exiled, to walk the lonely road of his Mother. No one knew what had become of her, and after so long, they assumed she was dead. Jarod was the only one who knew the truth. She had returned to the stone; and in times of his most desperate need of solace, her voice spoke the loudest to him. 

Just as it did now, though it sounded as if it were so very far away. Jarod’s concentration was absolute, the subtle azure glow of his hands in the water easily missed by those not looking too closely, but Morrigan was looking closely. And she was surprised, intrigued, and confused. Jarod began murmuring, as if speaking to someone or something. Morrigan did not know what would happen next and felt a little cheated when nothing at all happened. He simply stopped talking and began washing as if he had done nothing at all. Oh this would simply not do, she would press this, she had to know what that was and what he had done. But not right now, even though her curiosity was at an all time high, she hadn’t missed the sorrow in his voice, or the fear laced words, or the way he seemed so… lost. She left him to his bath and returned to her encampment to ponder what she had seen. 

The brief conversation he had experienced was strained; it had taken much of his strength and concentration to even hear his Mother’s words. But she had made sure he heard the most important ones. Not words of condolences or softness, but words fitting, as she had put it, a King of Orzammar. 

“Fear not your past, my Son. You are the future of Our People.”

Jarod would have to think on those words… he would have to convince himself that he was still worthy, that he had not shammed his family, and that his father, somewhere in the stone, had truly forgiven him, yet that was difficult to do considering his father’s voice wasn’t among those who reached out to him.

He finished bathing with a heavy heart and gathered up his clothing, not bothering to dress as he strolled back to his tent, which was butted up against the rock face of the cliff they had camped beside, it had taken the dwarf less than a week to carve out a nice little cavern, just large enough for what he needed and no bigger, the stone of the mountain they camped beside wasn’t suited for anything larger. He just couldn’t bring himself to sleep under all that sky. He had tried but had found himself gripping the grass in an attempt to stay on the ground, a few nights of that and he gave up on ever sleeping beneath the stars. He hung his armor on the rustic stand, walking on the furs of animals he had hunted during their travels, primarily wolves. The fire pit he had fashioned was burning low, a dwarven trick, low burning hot fires keep you much warmer than a huge roaring fire, which of course just sent the heat straight up instead of allowing it to creep along the floor and warm the whole space. He threw a bunch of twigs on the fire, all it would need to burn through the night in his small quarters and settled down on his cot. Yes, he was still spoiled to a point. Sleeping on the ground was… well, it was not ideal. So, even though the others chastised him for it, he had fashioned a cot. Alistair’s words stung even though they weren’t meant to, he pointed out that Jarod’s doing was more of a permanent encampment than a temporary one. Jarod didn’t know the first thing about making camp temporary, all of his conquests beneath the surface had led them to abandoned Thaigs, where old rooms were ready to house his army. That and, of course, the lower soldiers slept on the hard ground, but the sergeants and of course, the Commander, always had a bed. 


	2. Become A Dwarf

He had just settled down on the furs of his cot when he heard the flap of the outer tent shift. Careful movements had a blade fisted and his form poised to only appear that he was still sitting. Piercing blues pinned… Morrigan… confusion flickered over his features as he settled again. “What’s wrong?”

“Why must anything be wrong for me to visit your tent?” Morrigan said as she moved around the cave, palming trinkets that dangled from the cave wall, releasing them just as quickly. 

“Um… because you haven’t before?” He reached to the side and drug a thin leather sheet over his lap, suddenly and uncharacteristically bashful. 

“Well, I am here now.” She turned and took a lean against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing him suspiciously. “I was led to believe that dwarves could not perform magic.” She stated boldly. 

Jarod cursed under his breath and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, she must have seen him earlier at the pool. He was foolish to believe he could find true privacy. “And I was led to believe that it was rude to spy on people…”

“Spy? I do not spy… I watch. I see.” Morrigan countered with a raised brow of challenge.

“And what scene did your witch eyes trick you into seeing?” Jarod was not a Commander because he was simple… or rather, was once a Commander.

“Trick? Oh my eyes do not trick me. I saw you. I saw what you did with your hands. My question is what? What did you do? How did you do it?” Morrigan’s insatiable curiosity came to the fore front. 

Jarod squared his jaw and his gaze hardened, effectively placing a wall between them in mind’s eye. “Mind your own business, witch.” 

“Such hostility… I am but a curious female…” She put on a tone of a girl, playing the innocent woman.

“Hardly.” Jarod smirked and shook his head, looking elsewhere for he didn’t want to see the way the low flames danced on her too-much exposed skin. 

“Oh, why such the secrecy or shame?” Morrigan threw her hands up, her thirst for knowledge causing her anxiousness. 

“There is no shame in speaking with the Ancestors!” Jarod was on his strong legs a heartbeat later, fuming. 

Morrigan raised her brows at his sudden nakedness, sure she had seen him before but when he swelled up out of offense, he was a sight to be seen. She returned her accusatory gaze to his eyes. “Speaking with the Ancestors hmm? So you were what, praying? That would make sense for surely you have much to atone for, but why the light, how was that possible?”

Jarod shook his head and turned away from her. “As curious as you may be, and as studious as you may be, at the end of the day, Morrigan, you are still human. And as such, you are not permitted to all the answers of my people.”

Morrigan was speechless, he had just dismissed her with fact and… she had detected a certain amount of honor in his words. As Alistair had advised her, it was coming to pass. Who knew that idiot would speak the truth, Alistair had said “With Jarod it’s all about honor.” Wiser words than he had intended, no doubt. Even idiots were known to stumble ignorantly across wisdom. But still she scoffed. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I already know plenty about the dwarves.”

“But not this.” He pointed out rather smugly. 

“Obviously, hence my questions!” Morrigan was growing agitated, something about this dwarf left her flustered. 

He settled back on his cot and crossed his thick arms over his scarred chest. “Which I will not answer.” He said firmly, making it quite clear that he would not yield. 

Morrigan groaned impatiently. “Why ever not?!” She placed her hands on her hips and stared down at him.

“I have already told you…” Jarod was not budging. “You have no right to know the information, Morrigan. It is not of your people, it is of mine. You want to know? Become a dwarf and I’ll gladly let you in on the secret.” 

Morrigan bristled at his words. “I can be nothing other than what I am.” She ground out.

Jarod nodded and placed an index finger on his nose and said nothing more, just rolled onto the cot and covered his lap, bedding down for the night and dismissing the fuming witch, even going so far as to put his back to her. But he only feigned sleep until she finally left, attempting to slam the flap of the tent behind her, which was of course, wholly ineffective. 

Morrigan was fuming as she returned to her tent, hell bent on getting the answers she so craved, she would not let this be the end of their discussion.


	3. Happy Now?

Dawn came all too soon for the dwarf, he groaned and complained just as his joints did when he rolled out of his warm cot. His sleep had been plagued by dreams, demons more like. Dwarves did not dream, they slept as sound as the stone they surrounded themselves with. Thus, the events of the night weighted heavily on the Commander. Do dwarves dream when they leave the comfort of the earth? He did not know and there was no one he could truly ask. Jarod scrubbed his whisker covered face, stretching out his neck as he looked upwards and found a small amount of comfort in the cave ceiling above him. 

“Is it awake?” The mechanical voice of the golem, Shale, sounded all too loudly in the confined space, startling Jarod enough to cause him to jump as he pinned the automation with a fierce gaze.

“Shale! What.. yes. It is awake.” What a glorious morning this was turning into, first the dreams that still lingered just beyond his mind’s reach and now the golem struggling to fit into the opening of his dwelling. 

“The other soft one tells me we are going to Orzammar today.” Shale shifted her weight, trying desperately to fit inside the doorway, making very little progress.

“That’s the plan.” Jarod grumbled as he reached for his trousers, pulling them on quickly and lacing the fly before standing and shucking his boots on.

“I have a request then.” Shale had grown quiet… which only caused Jarod to slow his movements and watch her as if she were a wild beast of some kind.

“A request…?” Jarod led on.

“Yes. A small but important one. Since we are going to the dwarves… and I am a golem after all. I was wondering if it planned to surrender me to the authorities?” Shale was... nervous? Could a golem even get nervous? What was Jarod thinking, golems typically weren’t male or female, but Shale was female, so why was he even bothering. He was taken aback by her question.

“Authorities? Why would I surrender you to anything? You aren’t my property, Shale.” Jarod was actually offended at the very thought.

Shale just stared at him for a long period… a somewhat puzzled look on her limited expressions. “Indeed. Good. My request then, is that it does not surrender me or sell me to the dwarves.” She said firmly, as if she had to plead her case.

“Shale…” Jarod tried not to groan as he pulled his tunic on. “I will not sell or surrender you to anyone, for you are not mine. If you want to spend time with the dwarves, you are more than welcome to. But rest assured they will want to study you…” Jarod knew all too well that his people would be intrigued to the point of poking and prodding the golem.

“I expected as much. It is settled then!” Shale said triumphantly and, with much scrapping and pebbles falling to the ground, she dislodged herself from the cave opening and disappeared behind the flap.

Jarod just stood there, thoroughly confused. Last night with Morrigan, then the dreams, which he was not going to inspect any further, his Mother’s words, now Shale’s request. Jarod was sure he’d wear a permanent scowl for the remainder of the day. 

“Stop pestering me, witch.” Alistair ground out as he went about loading his pack for the journey. She had been at this since he woke up, before actually since it was her questioning that roused him in the first place. “If you want to know anything about the Commander, ask him yourself.”

“I tried that, moron… obviously. He did not give me the answers I seek, which is exactly why I have been forced to come to you. What is his story? Why does he shy away from Orzammar? I know he was once a citizen there, so naturally something had to’ve gone wrong for him to be up here with... you.” Morrigan glared at Alistair, not interested in his thick headedness. 

Alistair began grinding his teeth as Morrigan persisted, he had gotten very little sleep, his head was killing him, and now this witch was pestering him. Finally, he’d had just enough to pop off. “Fine! You want to know his BIG secret?!” He threw his pack down on the ground and held his arms out. “He’s the late king’s son. Heir to the throne, ex-Commander to the whole of the army in Orzammar, and now he has to go crawling back after they exiled him for a crime he did not commit, and beg for HIS army to fight alongside him. Happy now?!” Alistair was actually red with anger at the witch, why did she care anyway?!

Morrigan however had grown too quiet, staring wide eyed over Alistair’s shoulder… directly into the smoldering gaze of Jarod. Alistair winced… “He’s behind me, isn’t he…” He didn’t wait for an answer, he turned slowly and cautiously to see a rather angry Jarod shift his glare towards him. “Jarod… I… she…”

Jarod’s brain felt like it was on fire, the grip he had on his sword was enough to imprint upon the very metal the hilt was cast from. He stuffed his helmet on his head and stalked past the both of them, growling over his shoulder as he did. “Move out.” 

“Great… look what you’ve done.” Alistair barked at Morrigan as he shouldered his pack and followed after the Commander.

“What I’ve done?!” Morrigan was taken aback! “You were the one who aired all of his personal private business to the world!” She called after the idiot, stalking along with staff in tow. The rest of the party followed suit, making sure to steer very clear of the seemingly warring trio that led the way.


	4. Dishonor & Shame

Jarod led them on at a harsh pace, stopping only to rest for a few moments before moving on. The rest of the party had given up trying to converse with him and Morrigan hadn’t even tried. Anger drove his muscles as they screamed for revere but he would give none. It wasn’t until the moon was high and Shale refused to travel no further, noting how the soft ones were winded, that Jarod agreed to stop.   
Since he was technically the only one who knew the way to Orzammar, they had to follow him. 

He didn’t stay near the group though, even as a fire was built. He took his leave and perched upon a stone, crystal gaze piercing the darkness that lay before him. He had only removed his helmet and made no other indication that he was going to relax for even a moment. He stuffed a piece of leather dried meat into his mouth, mashing the stiff morsel between his molars and holding it there; relishing in the way his jaw protested. It was something, anything, which kept him grounded. Finally, Alistair attempted to speak with him. Jarod kept his answers short but he had managed to let Alistair know that he wasn’t truly angry with him. 

“She was badgering me… I couldn’t help it.” Alistair said shyly as he followed Jarod’s gaze out into the wild. 

“I know.” Jarod wanted to be more… sociable. But he just couldn’t get past the wall of anger and embarrassment. Why did it matter to him so much that Morrigan know of his dishonor? 

“I truly am sorry…” The unlikely Prince led on.

“I know. It’s fine. Really.” Jarod chanced a short glance to the male and with a firm nod, dismissed him. There were some things about a male’s personality that would never change… Jarod was a leader, not a follower. He dismissed, he was not dismissed. Add that to the list of things he was going to have to get over.

Alistair, thankful for that, finally left him in peace, but only after Jarod took the flask of whiskey he had offered. The Commander looked like he needed a drink. Jarod waited until Alistair had returned to the fire before he took a long pull of the drink, letting the burn seep into his chest slowly. It would be hours before anyone approached him again, and even then, he did not welcome her company.

“I don’t understand why you are being so surly, Jarod.” Morrigan stepped directly in the dwarf’s field of vision, determined to have him look at her. 

Jarod just listed to the side, glaring around her irritating form. “Leave me be, woman.” He managed to growl out behind clinched teeth.

Morrigan gave pause… he was actually angry. It wasn’t a farce; he truly was pissed off, and at her of all people. “Jarod…” She began, a bit more carefully but it was no use.

Jarod came off his stone, his arm pulled back as if to strike her with the rear of his hand, fire snapping in his crystal gaze. 

He meant to hit her! She saw it in his eyes; it was there, in the way his anger trekked down his marred features, making him even more ominous was the shadows that danced across his face, casting his iced hues in darkness. Morrigan couldn’t remember a time when someone was so angry with her that they had wanted to strike her, not to mention a time when she actually thought they would. But he didn’t…  
He didn’t. His fist clinched, he lowered his hand slowly and with much effort, moving to point back towards the fire where the others had bedded down for the night. “Go.” His voice rumbled.

“I most certainly will not! You cannot simply order me about as if I were that sniveling pup, Alistair. You will do well to remember who you are speaking to!” Her voice didn’t waver but she couldn’t deny the prick of anxiety that coursed over her. 

“And you would do well to remember who I am!” Jarod’s brain was cracking apart as his anger mounted; he filled out his armor with each ragged breath he took in. The night air biting his lungs like a thousand needles. 

“Which is who?! Who are you Jarod?!” Morrigan threw her arms out to the side, her own ire creeping up on her. The chill in her air clamming up her balmy skin, perhaps she should have taken up that circle tower witch’s offer of a cloak. 

Jarod took a challenging step forward with his lips parted in preparation for words… words that did not come. He stopped slowly and looked around at the wilderness surrounding him, the sky above. “No one.” He mumbled. 

“Oh, come off it.” Morrigan scoffed, again throwing her hands up in the air.

“What do you want from me, Morrigan? To hear about my dishonor, my shame! To hear how I was a fool to trust my own brother. To learn all about how I was exiled, how I received this!” He jabbed a finger towards his own tattooed face. “Castless! Invisible! Useless! To hear that I am thrilled to go back to Orzammar and see the sneers, to hear them refer to me only as exile. To see ones I once thought were my friends laughing at me to my own face!” He had started pacing before her. “For me to see my fine family home in the hands of that traitorous whelp!? To see my people fight over a crown that should have been mine!? To see my city in ruin while Behlen dines on fancies in his hall of lies?!” He huffed as his fists came together in front of him. “For you to see me grovel and beg for my own army to fight by my side once again?!” His anger was causing him to tremble… and something else to do the same.

Morrigan just watched, she was stunned at his outburst, and more than once she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by more of his rant. It wasn’t until the last that she felt the ground beneath her feet tremor. She spread her stance and looked around, the pine needles on the trees shaking above her, the pebbles at her feet jumping off the very earth. It took her only the briefest of moments to connect the dots, she looked to Jarod with wide eyes. 

Jarod caught the look but it took him more than a moment to register the tremor outside his own bones. He looked almost panicked, closing his eyes and taking a few ragged breaths, deep in and out until the earth grew quiet once again, thankfully no one else had noticed… this time. 

Morrigan was even more inquisitive now! “What was that? What just happened?!” She demanded sharply.

“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about, witch. Your mind must be playing tricks on you again.” Jarod muttered as he began stalking away from her.

“Ohhh no no no, not this time dwarf.” She followed close behind him as he stormed off into the woods.

“Leave it alone, Morrigan.” Jarod warned, a growl under his breath as he all but punched a low hanging branch out of his way, only to have it snap back defiantly behind him.

“No, I wi-…” The branch whipped at her face and she too had to play duck and dodge. “I will not! I must know what happened back there and the other night!!” Her voice came out shrill, and she hated it.

“Well, you aren’t going to know so I suggest you get over it.” Jarod barked over his shoulder as he blindly charged ahead, where was he going exactly? He didn’t even know, he let his boots take him where they wanted.

Morrigan was having trouble keeping up, so fixated was she that she stumbled over root and rock alike. “No! You must tell me this instant, dwarf!”

“Ha!” The cynical syllable left his lips with a shake of his head. “Says who? You? I don’t think so.” Another branch was slapped out of his vision, if he had taken a moment to pay attention, he would realize that his boots were leading him towards Orzammar, the Frostback Mountains lay just beyond the ridge he came to the base of.

“Jarod!” Morrigan reached and gripped the shoulder of his armor, attempting to pull him to a stop lest he start climbing the mountain and leave the rest of their party behind.

He jerked at the tug and for a moment was like a bull, stubborn and unyielding before his anger ebbed for the slightest of breaths, allowing clarity to his vision. Only then did he stop, and on a dime to boot.

His sudden stop left Morrigan’s form little choice but to run into him. “Oof!” She damn near bounced off of him, stumbling back and sure that the ground wasn’t going to feel too kind. But she did not fall, a firm hand snared her elbow and jerked her back upright. Jarod just stared at her for a long heartbeat as she remained still, finally he released his grip. 

“Morrigan…” Her name whispered on his lips, the guttural sound beneath his breath was enough to cause the fine hairs all over her body to stand on end and a vibration to snake down her spine. Jarod’s intense gaze held hers for what seemed like an eternity before he looked at the earth beneath his boots. “Leave it be.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, stepping past her and returning down the path they had traveled, but he waited a few paces away for her to follow.

Morrigan wasn’t sure why she had reacted that way to him, he had only said her name. And while a great part of her was demanding answers, a foreign, newly awakened part held her tongue. She did not ask again, she didn’t speak at all for that matter. The whole way back to camp, she noted how he held branches a bit longer, allowing her safe passage. She noticed his pace had slowed when she grew weary of walking, and she noticed how his eyes lingered upon her as she left him at his ‘perching stone’ to return to the low fire, and how he watched her still when she laid upon her bedroll amongst the other sleeping members of their party. And she noticed too… that she had felt safe under his crystal gaze. And that… well that simply would not do.


	5. Stalling

Dawn came with little events, though Morrigan knew that Jarod had not seen sleep that night. The Commander was exhausted, yet he stuffed his helmet down over his ever growing hair and led the way further into the foothills of the Frostback mountains. Conversation between the others held little interest to her as her gaze remained fixed on the back of Jarod’s helm. Alistair had apparently fallen back into the dwarves good graces for they walked beside one another, Alistair’s grating voice mingled with Jarod’s tenor as they discussed whatever it was they were discussing. Perhaps a safe route? When to make camp? Or perhaps Jarod was giving Alistair a lesson in dwarven customs and ceremonies. From what she understood, they were a very traditional people and gave little room for modernization of anything, even the presence of women who bore weaponry outside of their famed Legion. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Alistair’s query presented itself in a hushed tone, as if they were being spied upon, which of course they were… sort of.

“Of course I don’t want to do this…” Jarod hissed, giving Alistair a droll sidelong glance. “But it has to be done and since you are hell bent on maintaining a second in command position, I have little choice in the matter. Just have to remind myself that we are here with treaties and dwarves just love treaties.” He grumbled as he adjusted his belt, stealing a view over his shoulder to pin Morrigan with a warning stare before returning his gaze forward once more.

“Hey… I’ve told you, me and authority just don’t mix. I make stupid decisions and in this case, stupid decisions would get us killed. Hell, get all of us killed.” Alistair always had a flare for the dramatic but honestly, those who knew him, knew that he was a behind-the-scenes kind of person, never wanting the spotlight to shine upon him, no matter his lineage. 

“Indeed.” Jarod agreed with a smirk, bringing his hand up to brush the tip of his nose in an attempt to hide the expression.

“Hey, you don’t have to agree so quickly… ass.” Alistair saw the smirk and he gave Jarod an unceremonious shove to the shoulder, which only served to set himself off balance. Damn, that dwarf was like a brick wall.

Jarod let out a hearty laugh, the laugh that once could be heard three doors down when he was at home. His whole expression changed when he let out the deep boom of amusement. His mood had been so surly as of late, the momentary enjoyment was more than welcomed. 

Morrigan watched and listened with a mixture of her own amusement and a twinge of jealousy, she wanted to be the one to make the dwarf laugh in that way. That thought alone almost made her trip over her own feet and scowl at herself angrily. She shook her head in a futile attempt to clear it. She spent the rest of the day cursing herself within the confines of her own mind. 

They walked until the sun rested on the horizon, though it was hidden behind the vast mountain that sat before them. Jarod looked… well, terrified for lack of a better word. He stalled out in the shadow of the mountain and after more than a moment he cleared his throat and announced that they would make camp for the night, explaining that the dwarves were even less hospitable at night, since they closed and locked their massive gates once the sun bid the land good day. He also hoped that his companions wouldn’t see this camping business for what it truly was. Though the dwarves were less likely to open their gates at night, he could still get in but he needed the time. He needed the quiet dark hours to still his mind and ease his storm. 

The others made camp around a low burning fire, fear of attracting unwanted attention off the well worn road that led to the dwarven stronghold. Talk was low but content, the members of his party speaking in tones of hope and ease. For some reason, he did not know why, they felt comfortable here. Perhaps it was because none of them truly understood exactly how unwelcome he was. They knew him as the dwarven general who was exiled, they did not understand what that truly meant. But he did… and he was dreading the dawn. Dreading it with every fiber of his being. He chose to leave the group to their own devices as he ventured further around the merchant’s circle that rested before the mighty entrance into the mountain.


	6. Already the Exile

He tried to think about what he would say, how he would approach the gate’s guards… every time he did it felt as if the air had suddenly grown too small within his lungs, his brow would break out into a fierce sweat and his heart hammered within his chest piece. It was during this time when the claws of anxiety dug deep into him, spurring his fear, that he tore at his armor. Panic widened those glacial hues as he jerked at the straps, desperate to have the heavy metal off of his shoulders. Shoulders that felt as though they held up the weight of the world in that moment. He had just dropped the armor heavily to the ground when a stick snapped behind him. He turned quickly into a crouch, poised and ready for the attack he just knew was coming. He was trespassing after all...

But it was only Morrigan, her hands held up to show she was relatively unarmed. By the maker… he looks frightened… she thought to herself. “It’s just me…”

“Go.. go away, Morrigan… leave me.” His words came in bursts that rattled his chest as it felt like his throat didn’t want to allow them passage. 

Morrigan looked at him closely for a moment before moving to his side, reaching a hand out she rested it on his shoulder easily. “You’re shaking…” Morrigan was confused… this mighty warrior, one she had seen show immense prowess in the face of their foes was actually.. scared. He trembled with each breath and through her touch she felt his fear. 

“I’m cold.” He ground out… embarrassment making the words sound more harsh than he had intended. He was shaking, so much so that he could barely focus. The world was pressing in on him and his fight or flight was tripped, he felt as skittish as a young doe, waiting for the hunter. He tried to shrug her touch off but she wouldn’t have it.

Morrigan moved around behind him and slid her arms around his torso, up under his own and rested her palms against his chest. She felt his heart pounding beneath her palms and wondered what could have caused this reaction… but she didn’t voice it. She steadied her own breathing, nice and slow, in and out… knowing that his body would want to mimic the action. “Easy, Jarod… easy.” She whispered against his ear as she… well yes… as she embraced him.

Jarod stiffened at her actions, instinctively pulling away from her approach but her hold stilled him. He found that he couldn’t move, even though a great portion of his brain was screaming for him to. He was convinced this must be some sort of spell, some sort of trance inducing touch but he couldn’t move away. Her arms around him and her breath on his neck forced his body to take a deep, ragged, breath. He let his eyes close, shutting out the world. His own hands covered hers as he tried to force himself to calm. The trembling came less but in violent sessions. His heart rebelled against the soothing balm that was Morrigan and pounded harder at times but soon, it too began to slow. 

Morrigan felt him fight her at first… then she felt his calloused hands and tightened her hold upon him. She just stood there, strong and true waiting for whatever it was that had gripped him to release its hold. Eventually it did but still she did not move… she didn’t want to admit how warm she felt, pressed against the male. She didn’t want to admit how her heart fluttered on its own (stupid) accord. “Is it the morning? Is that what…” She let the question hang, having spoken quietly… so quiet she wondered if it had been too much so but soon he answered.

Jarrod drew another deep breath and nodded, shamefully. “None of you understand… I’m not welcome here. I feel it in my bones… like the stone itself is screaming at me to go away. Castless… shamed… exile.” Jarod had to squeeze his eyes shut again as another tremor ran through him. 

Morrigan thought on those words… realizing that the coined statement was true. It was really true… with Jarod it was all about honor. And he felt as though he had lost his… no, not lost. That it was taken from him. She hadn’t really thought about his personal issues with coming to the dwarven city. She, who had never known more than a handful of people in her entire life and most within the past months, didn’t understand. He was right… she didn’t understand at all. But she was trying. She tried to think from his point of view… His father gone… his brother to blame. His rank, his status, all gone. Those he once knew as friend would now look upon him with disgust. “Jarod… listen to me..” She released him just enough to move around to stand before him, bringing her hands up to the center of his back and wrapping around his shoulders from behind. She gave him a gentle shake. “Listen…”

Jarod allowed her the movement, finding his own hands around her lower back, lacing his fingers comfortably. Had he been more clear in the mind, he would have noted how easily the action came, as if he had done it a million times before. He would have noted just how comfortable his own body was with this female. The shake succeeded in his troubled eyes opening and looking into dark pools of… concern. Morrigan was actually concerned… if nothing else, that would have been enough to ensnare his gaze.

Morrigan had to hold her breath for the briefest of moments lest the effect those eyes had on her was revealed. She removed one hand and traced the now healed tattoos on his face. “These do not make you any less honorable.” When he shied away she shook his shoulder again with the hand that remained. “They don’t.” Her words were stern and filled with meaning. “Those people in there.. those dwarves… they do not dictate who you are. Out here or in there. You are a wonderful male.. a fierce friend.. and someone they would be lucky to have grace their halls again. You are a grey warden. Something they can never be… you fight the evil they cannot, you stand when all others fall… you are more than a general, more than a prince, and much more than they believe you to be. It is their loss that you are out here with us, it is their grave mistake that they hurt you so. And it is they who will regret every moment you do not sit on the throne. There is no one above or below the earth that could lead your people more honorably.” Each time he shook his head in denial her words stressed further. Did he not know how difficult this was for her to say?! She wasn’t the ‘supportive’ type. She didn’t do… this. “You are their future and they threw you away… it is their loss.” She stressed the last.

Jarod didn’t want to hear her praise, her support.. he didn’t deserve it. He knew that deep within his bones but he couldn’t deny the swell in his chest, the balm that coated his core. He had shook his head in denial more than once and was reminded that she still had her hands on him. Her hand on his face, tracing the marks of shame he had received by force made him want to hide them from her. “You don’t understand…” He said finally after she had stopped praising him.

Morrigan nearly growled in frustration. “I’m trying to… why are you being so… stubborn?!” She moved to release him, hurt that she had done all of that for apparently nothing. Stupid, stupid, male!

Jarod wouldn’t release her, instead her jerked her body against his fully, reaching up to force her to look down at him as he pinned her with an intense gaze. “No… you can’t understand. It is not their reaction I fear, it is not their looks or sneers that I dread… it… it…” He stalled out as she struggled against him, trying to move away from him. “Stop, Morrigan, stop!” He growled as he tightened his hold.

“Let me go, Jarrod, let me go!” She hissed, still not yelling. She didn’t want to attract any attention to them and to her embarrassment. She had tried to be tender, tried to be there, and what had it gotten her? A male who still thought she was incapable of understanding, she had known better!

“Morrigan, no… I… It’s you!” He finally growled as he jerked her against him once more. That had her be still… “It is how you will see me when they yell, when they ignore, when they curse me… it is how you will look at me. I can’t have you see that… if you look at me the way they’re going to.. I wouldn’t survive it. So, no.. you don’t understand.” He trembled again from pent up emotion and stress. He thought for a moment that it couldn’t get much worse, he was already degraded in her eyes, he was already the exile, he was sure of it. Basically saying ‘fuck it’ in his mind he forced her face into his, claiming the lips he had been dying to taste, pushing his body against hers.


	7. In the Shadow of the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. (And this is where things start to get saucy.) You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Yes, I'm aware that Jarod is insanely tall for a dwarf. Again, a deviation from HC, but it was done on purpose, he's still shorter than her by a head but still plenty tall for his kind.

Morrigan didn’t know what to think at that… he was worried she would look at him differently? Why would that matter to him unless… her train of thought simply scattered when he all by forced himself upon her. It was as if a dam had broken loose, she sank her hands into his short curly hair, pulling against him as she welcomed his kiss, parting her lips and allowing him entrance. He ravaged her mouth, her lips quickly becoming swollen and pricked from his whiskers, her cheeks burning as she returned the passion.

Jarod couldn’t think, he couldn’t allow himself to. He growled against her as she let him in and pulled at his scalp, he forced her back against one of the massive stones, all but slamming her against it if it weren’t for his hand that he threw out to soften the blow, easing her against it his hands traveled up and down her form. He felt his pride swell against her thigh through his trousers, he reached a rough hand around her hip and gripped her rear, pressing his newly swollen length harder against her. His other hand traveled to her breast, jerking at the fabric demandingly. He explored her mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers.

Morrigan tensed in anticipation of the stone at her back but the pain didn’t come, he had made sure of it. That only fueled the heat that was blooming within her, his hands moved over her in a way that seemed to force her to accept him. He was fevered and rushed, demanding and dominant. Everything she never thought he would be… she felt him swell and press against her, the feeling of his length pulled a moan from her throat as she felt him grab her, jerking her towards him at the same time he pressed against her. His rough hand on her breast pricked it even beneath the leather she wore.

He quickly grew impatient with the covering that shielded her from him, he reached between them and jerked the laces on the side and shoulders, pulling the leather down unceremoniously, leaving her lips he palmed both of her breasts and ducked his head down, tongue and lips finding each sweet nub as his length pulsed between them, his hips begging to thrust forward, an action he only barely kept in check. He growled as he covered her breasts, tasting every inch of her, pulling at the buds harshly as she sank her hands into his hair again, willing him on.

Morrigan almost cried out when he explored her exposed breasts, the cool night air only heightening the encounter. Her core began to ache and grip against itself, she hadn’t taken a male in many years and then it was only to scratch an itch. This was more than that… she felt more of it. She wanted all of him and she urged him on.

Jarod was drunk against her, drunk on her scent and taste. He had to have more… he dropped lower to his knee and tore her skirt from her, baring her to him again, he forced her legs apart, throwing one thigh over his shoulder as he claimed her with his mouth. He growled against her, the deep tenor vibrating through her as his tongue laved at her, his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste. Dark and woodsy, sweet yet musky, he devoured her core.

Morrigan had to bite her own fist to stop from yelling out in pleasure, he was unyielding. She felt her hips gyrating against him, encouraged by his rough hands that grabbed at her. His tongue explored her further and she felt her body heating to a level like never before. He was going to pull an orgasm from her right then and there, and he succeeded. She bit down so hard she drew blood on her knuckle. Her body thrust against him as her core wept, she moaned deep in her throat and felt her world explode.  
Jarod didn’t release her, he laved each drop up, feeling his own length begging for release, her own almost caused his right in his trousers. He pressed his palm to the tip, forcing it back.. not yet he growled in his head. He couldn’t wait until she was done riding the wave of pleasure, he had to be inside of her right then. He jerked away and tore his own laces apart, springing his length free.

Morrigan was still in the throes of pleasure when he pulled away, she almost whimpered until she saw the whole of him in the moonlight. She had seen his nude form before but obviously not while he was erect. He was impressive, perfectly proportioned, and it appeared to be as hard as steel, so hard it must be painful. He was swollen, all over, a perfect male specimen. She hoisted her leg up and rested her heel on a jut of the rock, exposing herself further to him. An invitation if there ever was one. 

Jarod didn’t wait even a second to answer the invitation, the view of her spread before him, her body ravished and flushed. Her breasts swollen and alert, his length wept with anticipation, he couldn’t wait. He moved in and guided himself to her core, pressing against her opening he shuddered with the feeling of her wet heat. He braced one hand on her hip and in one fluid motion sheathed himself to the hilt, pulsing within her as her core gripped at him he stilled with a low growl, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. He might have said something close to ‘yes’ in a low whisper but even he couldn’t be sure.

Morrigan wasn’t expecting how full she would feel, how wonderfully firm he was, how he pushed against the inside of her that was almost painful but glorious at the same time, she wrapped her leg around him as he snaked his arm beneath her knee, his other arm gripping her hip she soon found both of her feet off the ground and he didn’t even seem to be trying to hold her up. She arched her back, taking him in fully. She watched him still and enjoy, a satisfied smile pulling at her lips. A fleeting thought almost threatened her pleasure… she felt something for this male but she quickly shut it away, at least for now.

Jarod had to wait for a moment lest he come right then… he wanted to feel her longer. He adjusted her legs and brought her down further onto him just as she arched her back, he pressed his chest against hers, feeling her breasts against him he withdrew painfully slow before forcing his way back in harshly. The action causing her breasts to jerk against him and her head to lull to the side as she felt the whole of him. He felt the tingle start tracking up his spine as he moved against her, withdrawing and repeating the action. He felt his release coiling at the base of him, ready to spring at any moment. As she pulled at him, urged him on, demanding he give more, his pace quickened and he was lost to her. He showered kisses against her nape, growling in her ear as he drew nearer.

She demanded all of him, never had she felt so completely engrossed in passion. He was everywhere, his scent filled her head and made her dizzy with it. His length filled her core and made her beg for more of him, she felt the spurs of another climax and was almost shocked, the embrace of him was too much as he quickened his pace, slapping against her, his hips moved in perfect motion and time. His muscles bunched beneath her touch and he was all male, dominant and demanding, urgent and feral. And she loved it. She felt his urgency, his desire spiking as her own grabbed her again. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and released a series of unintelligible moans and perhaps words, she couldn’t be sure. 

He felt her tighten around him, her core pulsating against and around him, the series of muscles pulling his release from him. He dove in deeper, pulled her closer, forced himself as far as he could go. It still wasn’t enough.. his thighs screamed at him, his knees shook, but he pulled her away from the stone so her whole weight came down upon him. He felt his manhood tighten against him, his hands gripped her behind and using his arms, pumped her up and down, out and in, he turned so that his back rested against the stone, thrusting his hips further upwards as he came. His climax gripped him hard, he threw his head back and suddenly found her hand covering his mouth and for that he was thankful because against those delicate fingers he cried out her name, his seed spilling deep within her in a hot rhythm. Still he forced her on, he was wild in his actions… he wanted more of her. He looked into her dark eyes, eyes darkened further by their passion. His own, he was sure was vibrant as the world looked crisper. The stone behind him trembled against his spine and he knew that he should calm himself but he couldn’t. He licked at her fingers, pulling one in his mouth to suckle the pad and nibble at it. Around her digit he voiced his desires… “More..” 

He was glorious, she watched as he released himself, she felt the pulsation of him within her. His cries would have been wonderful to hear in all their glory, but that one whispered word almost made her melt all over again. She felt the stone behind him and let out a content laugh, she knew he had power, she felt it before and knew it now.


	8. Dawn Approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW (a bit.)

By the early lights of dawn he fell atop her, collapsed was more like it. He hadn’t left her core in hours, he had taken her every way she thought possible, spilling deep within her again and again. Her own releases came so frequently she had lost count. Both covered in sweat and dirt, pine needles and pebbles, she didn’t know which and she didn’t care as she held his trembling form against her. Steam rising from his shoulders gave him an otherworldly appearance as he hoisted himself up onto his arms, looking down at her, his gaze had gone groggy as she forced her own eyes to stay open. Spent, that was the term. They were both completely spent. Months of frustration and attraction were… spent. There were no words as he lowered to place a tender kiss to her swollen lips, pressing his hips against her once more, causing her spine to coil and her body to react. But he didn’t move any further.. it was as if it was a promise. A promise for more, later. 

Jarod was breathless, taken away by it all. He knew her body as well as his own now, he knew where to push, where to pull, where to press to get the reaction he craved. His muscles trembled from exertion, his length threatened to harden again with the action of pressing against her. But he withdrew with the kiss, sliding away from her was the worst feeling. The cold air striking his tender length. He groaned as he rose to his feet on shaking knees. He looked around them for their clothes… noting the deep crack in the boulder they had used more than once. “Dawn approaches...” He murmured as he held out her skirt and top, once it was taken he stepped into his own trousers, brushing away various vegetation from their encounter. He tucked himself in gently with a hiss and laced the pants closed as she dressed herself.

Morrigan was numb it seemed, she felt the absence of him more deeply than she cared to admit. “Yes…” she said quietly as she dressed, slipping her feet back into her boots she went about the task of lacing them up but was halted by thick fingers taking the laces from her. She stared down at him as he knelt, placing her heel on his knee and laced her boots up for her, gifting a kiss to each of her inner thighs and dragging his whiskers there as well, causing a chill to cover her skin. “Jarod…” she warned with a small smile.

“I know, I know…” He said with a broad grin as he held his hands up and rose to his own feet, pulling his own boots back on he slid the linen top back over his back and chest only to find that it would never lace up again, the stitching torn earlier in the night. “Well… there goes that…” He gave a bit of a laugh and looked over to her as she approached to finger the useless laces on his chest.

“Sorry.” She gave her own small laugh and shook her head.

He captured her chin and stared into her with an intensity that almost startled her. “Never. Never apologize for this…” He gave her another one of those (melting) kisses before pulling away and hoisting his armor on, tightening the buckles beneath the metal. 

Morrigan just watched him, a small smile remaining on her lips. Internally she was thoroughly confused and angry at herself. How could she allow this male to touch her in such ways? And why did the intensity of him send shivers down her spine? She didn’t want to explore those feelings or any feelings really. She knew what the future held and her getting involved in any way with the dwarf would only complicate things. Then again, such involvements always complicated everything, no matter the goal. She did, however, notice the lack of stress that so often etched its way across the male’s features. She noticed the way his body moved more fluidly, less tense, and in such a way that she had never seen it before. For this moment, in the shadow of the mountain and trees alike, there were no ghosts hidden in his gaze, no regret in those ice like eyes. She did also notice the state of the boulder and would, of course, get to the bottom of that. But not now… she was battling with her own emotions and wondering over the geological differences of a large rock seemed to pale in comparison to the cracks that had broken wide within her own chest. 

Jarod looked around his feet for a moment, twisting and turning this way and that, trying to locate his helm, it was here somewhere… somewhere being the key term. In his search he noticed her watching him and offered up a small (probably goofy looking) lopsided grin before returning his gaze to the disturbed forest floor. Ah! There it is! He took the few steps to the helm quickly and plucked it from the earth, dusting the metal off roughly. “I’m sure I’ll need this once we head in…” He grumbled as he sent a sidelong, apprehensive, glance to the mountain. 

“Surely they won’t become violent with you…?” Morrigan thought about that, she hadn’t really considered that they might be met with actual violence. Hostility, yes. But violence? 

“Morrigan… if I show them weakness at all… no doubt every commoner, hell, every noble will be waiting to take me down a peg for all the years that I dined and they went hungry. And now that I am casteless, there is nothing anyone could or would do about it.” He laid it all out… why was it so difficult for her to understand that he, once a prince and general, was now lower than the nugs that plagued the city. 

She just shook her head and threw her hands up a bit. “I’ll never understand the inner workings of the dwarves… you are an asset to them! Their future and yet they threw you away over what? Something that should have been obvious to their eyes had they chosen to look.” 

Jarod smiled inwardly at her defense of him, why was it that when others defended him, he shrugged it off but when she did it… it made him feel… worthy. “Yes, we are complicated creatures, us dwarves.” 

Morrigan gave him an irritated look before she realized that he was jesting. She just rolled her eyes and started making her way back to the camp, where the fire was still burning low thanks to the never sleeping Shale. 

Jarod watched her go and shook his head as well, but not for the same reasons she had a moment earlier. Watching her walk away… well the view was something that was going to force him to walk in front of her from now on lest he start drooling like some mongrel pup.


	9. Welcome to Orzammar

The others were beginning to stir and when Jarod took a knee by Alistair he tried to ignore the knowing stupid grin that was plastered on the man’s face. “What?” He finally growled as Alistair rested his elbows on his own knees.

“Oh… nothing.” Alistair still couldn’t stop the stupid smiling… he was happy for the male but at the same time, dreaded the implications of the night and the one they involved. “Just… so…. I take it you’re feeling better this morning… feeling… relieved.” 

Jarod blushed deeply, his face burning as he slammed a fist into the man’s shoulder, sending him off balance and listing to the side. The bastard actually laughed which only caused Jarod’s anger to flare. “Ass.” 

Alistair had burst out in laughter, he barely caught himself from falling over and grimaced at the force of the punch. The General had a fist like an anvil and he knew that later, a nice Jarod-knuckle bruise would form on his arm. “Yeah, yeah… just… don’t get too attached. I mean… she’s a witch of the wilds and all that… just… don’t…” Alistair stalled out at the look on Jarod’s face. The male was staring intensely into the fire with a tick working in his jaw. “Wait… Jarod…” He jerked the males armor in an attempt to make him look at him. “You didn’t…” When Jarod did finally look Alistair just groaned and released him, rolling both his eyes and his head to the side. “Jarod!” 

“What?! You know as well as I that I have no control over that…” Jarod growled as he flexed his fists in a rhythm that beat within him. “It’s done.”

Alistair groaned again and rose to his feet, brushing his armored legs off. “So it is… just… be careful.” He warned… he couldn’t shake the deep seeded feeling of dread at what he had discovered. Dwarves were… different. When it came to affairs of the heart and body… they didn’t do either without fierce conviction. The rest would reveal itself in time… he only hoped that when it did, they were happy circumstances rather than tragic ones.

Morrigan looked up from her meager rations and raised a brow at Alistair’s outburst.. surely he wasn’t so upset about Jarod and her that he was truly angry? Why would he be? Probably plotting her death was more like it. The cold glare that he sent to her attested to that. She had the strange urge to stick her tongue out at the man, childish yes… but at least it would be in his native language.

“If you children are quite done…” Wynn spoke up for the first time in many days, rising from her place by the dwindling fire and gestured towards the mountain. “Daylight is waiting.”

Jarrod sighed heavily and nodded to Wynn as he too rose, cramming his helm on tightly he steeled himself for what was to come. He led the group up the incline, dispatched some would be mercenaries and with fresh blood on his blade he approached the door to the underground kingdom. He was barred at the first, until he showed himself. Like that would make them magically open the door. The guard was not going to budge however and Jarrod had no choice but to pull the helm from his head, even as Alistair had tried to convince the guard otherwise. The guard immediately clammed up and looked as though Jarrod’s very presence was offensive. “Casteless, you are not welcome here. Be gone.”

“No. I am a grey warden and you are honor bound to open the door.” He reached behind him as Alistair deposited the treaty within it. Jarrod raised his chin and held the document up but did not allow the guard to touch it. “This is beyond your station, guard. Open. The. Door.” He growled out the last, taking a step towards the guard who, for a moment stood his ground but upon being literally dwarfed by the tallest of their kind he shrank back into his armor slightly. Jarrod saw the spark of fear in the guards eyes and let a dark grin tug at his own lips as the guard turned and opened the door, much to the emissary’s ire. Jarrod tucked the helm under his arm and barely waited for the guard to get out of the way, he marched in as if he owned the place. Which was rather easy to do, considering this was his birthright. 

Alistair whistled low as he came up beside Jarrod. “I wasn’t expecting such resistance.” 

“I was.” Jarrod ground out, his mood souring the further underground they went. They passed the statues of the paragons, Jarrod giving his customary nod to the figures. Respect. Honor. All of these things so very important to him even though he was now considered worthless. They finally entered the city and Jarrod was dreading it… absolutely dreading it. All the others had grown quiet.

Morrigan was overwhelmed by the décor, the opulence of these underground chambers that were to greet any who entered. She watched Jarrod carefully, his movements were calculated. She noticed how he stepped purposefully, his posture was rigid, and his jaw was clinched tighter and tighter with each step that they took. So far, they hadn’t encountered any additional resistance so she had no real idea why he was still so tense. Perhaps it was something deeper than the entrance that was bothering him. She, of course, would not mention any of this to him until much later.

They finally entered the city, Jarrod pushing the doors open unceremoniously. Might as well let everyone know he was there right away rather than skulking around. The market crowd looked sharply at whoever opened the doors so swiftly and for a moment you could hear a pin drop. Alistair was still beside Jarrod and the others had pulled in closely to their leader. For a moment, Morrigan thought it would be just this, shock and nothing more. Then the first stone sailed through the crowd and sliced into Jarrod’s brow, leaving an angry gash behind its jagged trek. She gasped and Alistair yelled blindly into the dwarves, demanding the owner of the projectile come forth. Jarrod, however, had just jerked his head to the side and twisted it in such a way that Morrigan knew indicated his anger. Instead of reacting beyond that, he simply pushed forward. The yelling started, the heckling, the throwing… one dwarven male actually broke through the crowd and was nearly upon Jarrod when Jarrod struck him down with a perfectly aimed slam of his fist to the male’s nose. The gasp spread quickly and the offense was registered.

“How dare you strike another, Casteless.” The disdain in the voice of the guard who had muscled his way to the front took Morrigan aback, she had drawn her staff and was on the edge of attacking. 

“How dare you question a grey warden.” Jarrod barked as he stepped over the fallen dwarf, the male moaning on the ground. “Take me to the counsel, now.” The guard glared but complied, the crowd having falling back after the hit. Jarrod marched past the crowd, a storm brewing within him. The war raged and he was toeing the line, each step he took resulted in the dust upon the ground flaring out around him and it took all his focus to keep himself in check. They were escorted to the waiting chamber, as if he hadn’t already known where to go. The guard left them without a word and Jarod finally released a breath.

“Maker… that was… intense.” Alistair was the first to speak, resting his fists on his hips. He was totally shocked at what they had just gone through. He imagined it might be the same if a templar, like he once was, to walk brazenly into Tevinter. He looked to the Commander, watching as he purposefully ignored the blood trickling down his temple. 

Wynn was standing beside Shale, who had actually gone unnoticed thanks to Jarod, holding herself tightly she began whispering with the golem. Morrigan was the one who approached him and she almost stopped for the look he gave her, a warning. So she made sure to tread lightly. 

There were no words, once again the witch of the wilds was speechless. She just reached for his forehead, ignoring his agitated movements to jerk out of her reach and placed her palm over the gash, a searing light leaked from between her fingers and in a quick flash the wound was healed. Jarod grimaced with the action… healing was painful, especially the amount of magic required to heal a dwarf, it forced the body to heal. It wasn’t as if the magic itself did the healing, it just promoted the natural process. He rubbed at his now healed forehead and gave her a sheepish nod of thanks. Morrigan was still shocked at the treatment he had received… and she was angry with all who were outside that room. Furious was more like it. How dare they… now she knew. She took a seat on the stone bench behind him and took a lesson in his personality – brooding. 

Jarod was still reeling from the encounters, ones he had once called friend, the man who had struck him was a house servant of his Great Aunt’s. A man he had always treated kindly… yet he couldn’t truly blame him. Oppression leads people to do hurtful things for a small morsel of freedom. The ant will bite the lion, for just a moment to not be the lowest creature on the savanna. They waited for hours, of course they did. He had expected this as well. Ever the followers of rules, traditions, and protocol – the dwarves would see him, but they’d make him wait as long as they dared.


	10. The Assembly

They were eventually fetched to stand before the counsel. Jarod entered boldly, looking each member of the assembly in the eye. Forcing them to see his mark, the tattoo that had healed, the designation of his current station. They all looked away, each and every one. 

“Why have you come, Casteless.” The high seat spoke for them all. Stanis looked down on the group assembled before him, looking down being the proper explanation of his attitude.

“Grey Warden. General of the Ferelden Grey Wardens.” Alistair spoke, his words forced out behind clinched teeth. Of course, he made the whole General part up, but they didn’t need to know that. He had about had it with their disrespect of his companion, and friend.

The high seat glanced at Alistair and the disdain was evident when he spoke once more. “Why have you come, General.” He all but spat the last. Jarod found it darkly humorous that once he had been referred to the exact same way, and not very long ago, then it was spoken with reverence, now… well, now he was still Casteless. He appreciated Alistair’s attempt but he knew it was pointless.

“I require the aid of Orzammar, the blight is barring down above.” Jarod knew he would have to do more than that simple statement… and right on queue the counsel erupted. 

“Why should we care? For once the deep roads are empty, we can finally travel in peace. We do not see this sort of calm often. The darkspawn can stay up there for all we care.” One female assembly member shouted. Jarod just shook his head before barking.

“Each and every one of you are bound to honor this treaty.” He held the scroll up and displayed it. “You know as well as I, our laws will not allow you to tuck tail and run from your oaths!” That got their attention. The head seat held his ring laden hand out for the scroll. Jarod simply stared at him. “Only the King has the right to read it. Summon him.”

The council chamber grew deathly quiet and Jarod looked around confused. The head seat finally spoke. “We have no King at the moment.” 

Jarod blinked a few times in disbelief. “Um… an heir still lives. As much as I despise the little bastard, my br… Lord Aeducan… is the next in line.” He felt ill at the very words.

The head seat appeared to look the same as Jarod felt. “You are more apt than you know. Questions have been raised of Lord Aeducan’s right to rule. Lord Harrowmont has… pointed out, a few key details that the assembly must consider before we can, in good conscience, name him King.” The head seat held his hand up to further interruption. “We will speak privately, General.” 

And that was that. The assembly disbursed quickly, apparently not wanting to be involved in what was to come. Once the heavy doors closed behind him, the head seat all but leapt from his chair and rushed towards Jarod. Alistair and the others were alarmed but soon realized it was not a threat. The old dwarf embraced Jarod fiercely with nothing but relief in his eyes. “Praise the ancestors, you’re alive. I feared the worse.” 

Jarod swayed under the embrace and smiled quietly, returning the hug. “Uncle. You should know the deep roads hold no danger for me.” 

Stanis released his nephew from the embrace and gave him look of guilt before taking a knee and Jarod’s hand, pressing his forehead to the Aeducan crested ring. “Forgive me, Highness. It tore my heart to speak to you in such a manner.” 

Alistair was stunned, Morrigan speechless, and Wynn with Shale, well they stayed quiet with shock.   
Jarod shook his head and pulled his Uncle back to his feet. “I know. You were quite convincing, I had my own doubts. And do not call me Highness, I am no King.”

“But you are. If only those nug-headed fools would admit it.” Stanis held fast to Jarod’s hand and pulled him a bench to sit. “Your younger brother is unchained, unhindered, and unhinged.” Stanis said in a voice of great foreboding.

“Tell me of these allegations… I am lost as to the council’s reluctance to name him King.” Jarod was truly confused.

“Lord Harrowmont has posed the question of whether or not your younger brother is.. truly your full brother.” Stanis answered.

“But I don’t understand… he’s the next in line, isn’t he? Why should it matter if he is full or not?” Alistair asked, a question to which he himself would like an answer to topside.

Stanis looked to the human, instantly feeling fondness of him for the man’s attempt to demand respect for his nephew. “It’s complicated. Jarod is the rightful King, the eldest. The true heir. Him being banished has… ramifications. If Bhelen is only a half brother, his right… to rule.. can be challenged. And Lord Harrowmont has asked the correct questions to breed doubt. Doubt that I am, sad to say, is well founded.” 

Jarod looked even more confused. “I don’t understand.. true.. the bastard killed our father and for that, he will pay but… he is my full brother.”

Stanis gave him a pleading look. “No… he is not. He is a bastard son of your father and since it was your Mother’s line that determined your father’s status.. well, you can see the complications. Think Jarod, you have no memories of his birth, his hair is far fairer than yours, and his eyes… a completely different color. He resembles you in no fashion.” 

“Stanis, genes can be tricky, you know this. You and my father, full blooded brothers, look very little alike. He takes after… well… it doesn’t matter. You say I have no memories but I do, I remember Mother being swelled with child. I remember that, I was young.. but I do remember that.” Jarod rested his weight on one his elbows, settled upon his knee as he spoke. 

“True, your Mother was with child. But upon learning of your father’s… indiscretions… she fell into a darkness of the heart and her sorrow bled upon the child and it was lost. The night the mountain shook, their young babe was returned to the stone.” Stanis said these words with a heavy heart. He had loved Jarod’s mother, loved her more than he should have and since then, he had bore a hatred for his own brother that brewed even now. Juna’s name was still on the lips of his soul and would no doubt forever be there. He was ashamed at his satisfaction when it was announced that the King had been slain. “Your father brought her Bhelen shortly after, a whelp of a boy, too young to survive without a Mother’s milk. She nursed him as if he were her own, never blaming him for the father’s faults.”

“A kinder woman than I…” Morrigan spoke quietly in turn. She had drawn up to stand beside Jarod, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder, lost in the words his Uncle was weaving all around them.

Jarod glanced up to her before running his bearded cheek against her fingertips in a way that was unmistakable. He gave her a tender look before returning his attention to Stanis. “She was a great woman.” His head was still reeling with the tale. 

Stanis looked sharply at the tall human female who touched his nephew so freely… his eyes narrowed in deep thought at the way they were with one another. Momentary suspicions confirmed, he made a mental note to speak with Jarod about that later. For now, he pretended to not notice as intently as he had. “She was. But you see how this is problematic. If we could only convince the council to reinstate you, Orzammar would have a King again, a good one. The unrest would be silenced.” Stanis’ plan was clear.

Jarod took in a deep breath as Morrigan moved away, she had not been blind to the old dwarf’s notice. 

Jarod however, had been. “Stanis… you know as well as I do that… it won’t happen. They have made decision regarding my fate and you know the council has never been swayed.”

“That’s not entirely true, there were many times in the past where they had changed their minds. They could again. We must set a Proving… that is the only way, they will not challenge you then.”

“They will never let me enter. Casteless are not allowed.” Jarod rose from his seat and began pacing, agitation evident. They had been in Orzammar for nearly ten hours thus far and he was rapidly growing tired.

“They don’t have to know… We could enter you as a champion for Lord Harrowmont. Once you win, as you have always done, we will reveal ourselves and they will have no choice.” Stanis was near pleading, but he was still confident in his plan. 

“What is a Proving?” Shale finally spoke, her automaton voice drifting from the glowing golem. 

Stanis seemed to have only just noticed her. “Ancestors… a Golem!” His wide eyes took in all that was the impressive Shale. “Well.. a…” His discomfort of speaking with one was evident. “A proving is a… tournament of… strength and battle skills.” 

“It’s a fight, Shale.” Jarod finished, his ease obvious when it came to the golem. “Stanis, this is the golem, Shale. She is.. unique and unbound.” He tentatively introduced the two.

“Oh how.. unbound? How.. how marvelous!” Stanis was approaching the large golem as if she were a figment of his imagination. “I would very much like to speak with i… her.” 

“Shale answers for herself.” Jarod said from behind Stanis, Shale looked at him with nothing but fondness. She did so much like that small fleshy one.

“I would like to speak with you, Stanis, but not right now. Perhaps later. We have more pressing matters to attend to. For starters, the pink fleshy ones are in dire need of rest and food.” Shale seemed to grow larger as she took on a mother hen type attitude. 

“Of course, of course.” Stanis shook his head and waved his hands. “You all will stay in my home while you are here. I wish I could say it would be short, but dwarves are as stubborn as the stone from which we come. This plot will take time.” 

“Hopefully not too much.” Wynn whispered as she hooked her arm around Shale’s wrist. The aged woman offered a smile to Stanis. The dwarf looked up at her with a nod.

“Hopefully.” He agreed. Leading the group from the council chambers was tough for Stanis. He had to continue his ruse of disdain towards them and he despised every step of it. He dismissed his staff for the entire length of their stay, claiming he did not want to dishonor them by having to serve a casteless. They agreed.


	11. Another World

Later that night, once Shale had combined two or more dwarf beds to form normal sized beds for the tall fleshy ones, she stood by the large opening in her room that served as a window and looked out over Orzammar. Quietly contemplating the dwarf city. Wynn rested peacefully in her bed just feet from the golem. Shale adored the mage female, she was uncommonly kind and had always spoken to Shale as if she were a person. 

Alistair had been given his own room, begrudgingly accepting the help in moving the massive stone beds. He too had settled in, snoring the night away… or rather, what he assumed was night. He truly had no way of knowing for how far they were beneath the surface. 

Jarod’s room was… well it was his room. His uncle’s home always held rooms for their family members and even though they all had lived in Orzammar it was a huge city. Jarod often sought shelter at his Uncle’s if only to get away from his father’s scrutinizing gaze and his younger brother’s attitude. The room Alistair had been given was Jarod’s older brother’s. A fitting place for the male to rest, Jarod thought. He was dressed in some of his old clothes, though they felt too loose… too free. Too comforting. One hand held a heavy stone tumbler as he took random pulls of dwarven ale, ignoring the sweet taste on his tongue as his eyes just stared out the window, down upon the glowing stone empire.

Morrigan hadn’t expected the day’s events, nor had she expected to see him treated that way by his Uncle. When the male had taken a knee, it had come so natural that it took Morrigan aback. Too often she forgot that Jarod had been groomed his entire life to be the heir apparent, his older brother having denounced the thrown. For some reason, seeing him in the role of his old life was intimidating to her. He was royalty, so easy to forget that. It was so cold down here in the cavernous reaches of the dwarven stronghold, she was grateful for the low burning fires in every room that made living here even possible. The air was stuffy but not as much as she had expected, the smells were not what she expected at all. In the diamond quarter, the scents were perfumed. The commons, all spice and exotic. The slums… stench beyond measure. The proving tower – blood and sweat. Each had its own atmosphere. 

More than a few months went by, the others were growing stir crazy with being under ground for so long. In truth, he was trying to urge his Uncle to hurry the hell up. His Uncle was still in the process of arranging the Proving. Everything took so damn long down here, he thought. One night, much like the first, he was settled near the window, another stone tumbler in his hand. Dwarves weren’t exactly known for their variety, he did this each and every night. Some nights, Morrigan would come to him. Others, he’d go to her. In between it all, they ended up spending quite a few nights alone, apart from each other. He was thinking on all the meetings he had been having, all the nobles he’d been getting reacquainted with as his Uncle tried to rally others to their cause. It was a delicate situation to be sure. He didn’t want to appear to be the usurper, coming in to steal the throne (back) from Behlen or Harrowmont, either. Trying to achieve all of this without attracting their attention had placed a seemingly permanent headache behind one of his eyes. It was probably some sort of brain sickness, knowing his luck. He shook his head at that and took a pull of ale down, more of which he had been taking each and every night as they waited. Tonight, he had already been into it deep, it was late and he hadn’t expected Morrigan to come to his room. In fact, it had been more than six weeks since he’d had her in his bed, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. She just seemed to rebut his attempts of being with her. So he gave her the space she so obviously craved. 

There was the sound of a throat being cleared behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Morrigan hovering in the doorway. He gave her a tired smile, as much of a smile as he could give and gestured for her to enter. 

She looked at this male, this dwarven king. He looked so… tired. She was still curious over a great deal of things but wasn’t going to push too hard tonight, she had her own problems to contend with. “It’s late… you should be asleep.” She drifted in and settled on the bed, surprised at how soft it was. She noted the finery, the silks in the room, the heavy furs, the velvets… this was the world he came from. But she also noted the well worn armor on the stand, dwarven made… so it must have been his from before. For some reason, she was just now truly noticing these things. She smiled to herself, even when she thought she had him all figured out, it turned out that she was wrong. While she smiled at herself for that, it did still vex her. 

“Hmm.” He agreed, turning to rest against the window ‘frame’ and look at her. She looked entirely out of place in his old quarters… the bed, even custom made for his ‘tall’ stature, would still just barely accommodate her length. He too, was just now noticing these subtle nuances. An early conversation with his Uncle was to blame. His Uncle made his concerns well known about Morrigan and what her intentions were… and what Jarod’s life would soon become. Seeing her here… put into stark contrast the vast differences between them, and the worlds that they came from. And that troubled him… greatly. In truth, he was at home here, obviously… he wasn’t sure he’d ever be truly comfortable on the surface. She was from the wilds, a place of wide open spaces and big skies. She would never truly be comfortable living beneath the surface. If his Uncle had his way… he’d see Jarod on the throne. The King of Orzammar certainly couldn’t have a human as his queen. That would defeat the point. He’d be obligated and expected to produce an heir… and Orzammar would never except a half-blooded dwarf as their King or Queen. He must have looked troubled, for all the thoughts buzzing around in his mind because she raised a brow at him. He shrugged slightly and looked down into his nearly empty cup. “My Uncle… has big plans.” For me. He didn’t add that last part, he didn’t need to.

“That he does. Surely though, he would have to wait to place a crown on your head until after you have fulfilled your duties to the Wardens.” Morrigan didn’t want to think too much on what those plans would mean but she did anyway, let it never be said that she shied away from the unpleasant. She’d have to face it sooner or later, might as well get it over with. But she couldn’t deny the hint of hope in her tone when she spoke.

“I would assume so.. yes.” He hadn’t looked up from his cup yet. His brows drawing ever closer together and downward as he tried to riddle his way around all of this. Once, he’d be excited to ascend to the throne, it was what he had always thought he would do. But things changed. Now… he wasn’t so sure. He knew that if he were to take the throne now… he wouldn’t have his heart in it. Could he truly lead that way? What about Morrigan? Could he perhaps visit top side from time to time? Would that even work? What about the dwarven woman he would be expected to wed and the heirs he would be obligated to provide? How could he trust anyone beyond his Uncle in this city now? All of these questions were rolling around in his mind when he jerked back to the present. The cause was Morrigan’s hand on his shoulder, he looked confused at the interruption, glancing up to her. “Hmm?”

Morrigan had been watching him. She knew he was pondering many things, no doubt he had much to think about. But his brows drawing downward as he slid further into thought coupled with the grip he was soon giving the stone tumbler had her rise from her seat, moving over to him slowly as she called out his name in question. He hadn’t answered, oblivious to her approach. She only touched him when she felt the stones beneath her feat give a great lurch and rumble. “Let’s take a walk.” She suggested.


	12. Lies & Demands

Jarod looked around and noticed a few books that had fallen over, a few things slightly shifted. He sighed heavily and set the cup down, finally releasing it. He scrubbed his face harshly with both hands, shaking his head slightly. “Alright.” He murmured behind his palms. He followed her out of the diamond quarter and off to one of the lesser used passages that men used to stretch their legs. They walked in silence for a long time before she spoke. 

Morrigan had never thought herself particularly tender but she was towards him, and that frightened her, as usual. He looked… so troubled. But she couldn’t stop the words from coming from her. “What did you do… back there?”

He dropped his hands slowly, for a moment his features flashed panic before the door shut on them and he wore the firm mask he did whenever he was evading anything, whether it be her pestering words or a sword in battle. “What are you talking about?” He moved past her, following the wall to evade her.

She grabbed hold of his shoulder firmly, pulling him to a standstill. “Oh no, Jarod. I have accepted your evasions before but not now. What was that?” 

He growled over his shoulder at her, a warning as he jerked his shoulder out of her grasp. “Leave it.”

“No!” She argued, moving to stand before him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I demand answers, dwarf.” She didn’t mean to call him that but she did, and the tick in his jaw was enough to show that for some reason, now, after everything, it was not okay to refer to him as such. But she wasn’t backing down. Not this time. 

Jarod mimicked her, crossing his strong arms over his wide chest, kicking his chin up in defiance. “You.. demand..” He shifted his jaw, the muscles flexing. “Morrigan, we have been over this… the answer is, and always will be, no. Now stop pestering me about it!”

She huffed with frustration. “I will not, you’re going to tell me!” She was worn from the day’s events, too many things bounced around her mind. Earlier that day she had left the dwarven city and ventured to the nearby village, to a healer. To confirm what she was suspicious of. 

His anger made a trail down his face as he growled and slapped a stone that was sitting on a nearby ledge off, sending it across the cavern and shattering against the opposing wall. “I said no!” His hands went into fists at his sides and he glared, his frustration and anger evident, but beneath it all… a sense of doom and hopelessness that he had been carrying since that conversation with his Uncle. Perhaps now was the time… he wouldn’t curb his temper. He’d scare her off. And he hated himself for it. 

“Jarrod-“ She hadn’t expected this level of anger. She was sure that he was frustrated with her when it came to this. But truly angry?

“No! I’ve had enough of this. I have told you no more than once. Why do you continue to hound me? This is none of your concern!” He was shouting at her, angry at himself… not truly her. 

“What is wrong with you!?” She yelled back at him. Why was he being this way? Yes, she could be… bothersome… when she wanted to know something, but… did it really warrant this sort of reaction?

“You are! You can’t just leave it alone, can you? You have to pick, and pick… why can’t you just let it go?!” He ground out at her. No doubt their joined shouts were traveling down the tunnel, but he didn’t care. It was late and doubtful that anyone else was around. 

“Because I have a right to know!” She challenged, her own anger coming to the surface even though she had jumped when he slapped that heavy stone and it fell into all those pieces, had felt more than uncomfortable when he shouted at her.

“What in the hell makes you think that?” He ground out, taking a step towards her. “You are not a child of the stone. You don’t get to know this. You have no right to any of this!” He gestured around him and to himself in one motion, his deep tenor booming around them. “Now… go back to the house before I escort you there myself.” He added the last as his control was wavering, the threat issued that was against everything within him, the stone around him growing warm, the subtle flakes of mica within the pieces shinning. 

Morrigan was shocked. True, he had threatened her before but not like this. This was… unnerving. And it stung. She didn’t want to admit it but his words hurt her. She glared at him, cursing the moisture that gathered and pricked the edge of her vision. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her. She’d never allowed anyone to speak to her in such a way. She drew up to him, bending slightly to effectively ‘get in his face’. “I think that… because I want to know… if my child will have the same abilities as its father.” She trembled with unshed emotion, angry at him couldn’t even begin to cover it. She backed away and shook her head at him, disappointment and anger evident. In that moment she cursed him and their relationship, cursed what it had produced, though instantly regretted the last. Cursed all of it. He had foiled her end goal without even knowing it. 

“You lie.” He ground out, his anger blinding him to the truth of what she had just said to him. He was lost in his rage, rage at himself, rage at all of it. No sooner had the words left his mouth did he feel the sting of the harsh slap across his face. He was stunned stupid it seemed. He reacted without even thinking, his arm was raised and across his body in an instant, threatening… it hung there…

She hadn’t even been thinking, she just reacted, much like he was now. Those words pulled that response from her, one she didn’t even knew she had in her. True, she was a battle mage, but she rarely got physical. His reaction though had her flinch and she hated the very action. Perhaps it was because she was truly expecting to be hit back, or perhaps it was because all of this was on the heels of the most angry words he had ever spoken to her. And they’d been together for nearly a year now, together as companions for longer than that. She just looked at him one last time before turning around and walking back the way they had come at a steady clip. She was aiming for the door to the outside world, she would leave. With what she had discovered growing within her, the whole point of being with the Wardens was wasted and pointless. She knew they’d eventually defeat the archdemon, the blight would be over, and that was enough for her. She’d disappear into the wilds, like she had always done.


	13. Hall of the Dead

It was the flinch that made him lower his hand quickly, sickly satisfied when she walked away. And he let her. The news that she delivered though… had his mind reeling. He wanted to chase after her, call after her, apologize… all of that. But he didn’t. He let her go. And when he saw her disappear around the corner every inch of him demanded that he find her. He barely resisted, he let his rage out, screaming as he threw his head back, his muscles clamping down as the stone tunnel around him shook and caved in, crumbling around him. He punched at the massive stones that fell in his way as he stormed out of the cavern, turning them into dust easily. 

His eyes glowed vibrant, the white embers burning the air around him. He rounded the corner, going the opposite way that she had gone, the cracks in the tunnel following him. So lost to the stone was he that he didn’t even notice that she was still in the tunnels that headed towards the city, she had stopped, turned around, and was intent on going back, slapping him again, yelling at him some more. Whatever it took to make herself feel better. But she heard what sounded like an explosion and that had her pull up before turning into the tunnel where she had left him. At first she called out and ran a few steps before coming to a screeching halt as he turned the corner. He looked right at her but she got the very clear impression that he didn’t see her. His eyes… they were so brilliant that there was no other color in them. So bright and yet… blind. He stalked away from her, the cracks on the wall following him as he stalked down the tunnel. She was… well… terrified. She knew he had power, she didn’t know how. She knew it effected the stone in the earth. Again, she didn’t know how. But this? She had never imagined that he had this much power. And judging from the way he didn’t look at her, she had a sinking suspicion that he had known all along how much power he had within him. Why else would he have tried so hard, so many times, to calm himself. She thought for the briefest of moments about how to proceed but ended up just going with her gut, like she had done so many times in the past. She ran up behind him and just stayed there, following him, in the shelter of his wake. She was so close she could easily reach out to him if she wished but she didn’t, she wasn’t sure he knew she was there and if he didn’t… and he was obviously dangerous, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. She noted how he stalked with purpose, how each step wasn’t just random. How the cracks along the tunnel shifted and split the stone, flying ahead of them at times and others, barely keeping up. 

He was in a daze, lost in the darkness as he stalked down the tunnel aiming for the deep roads, his world spun around him, anger and rage all directed at himself more than anything or anyone in this earth. He unknowingly led Morrigan down into the depths, and when the spirits began crossing their paths, he pushed forward still. He didn’t stop until he was in the long famed Hall of the Dead, standing before a mighty pillar of rugged stone, one he had placed there himself before he left with Duncan. His muscles twitched, his body hummed with the vibration of his powers. The other spirits that dwelled within had slowly bowed their heads to him. Each one showing respect to their King. Still, Jarrod was in that other world, that other place. When he spoke, it sounded distant and far from himself. “Mother.” Juna appeared in the stone, stepping out in her ghostly form, looking at her only surviving son with a shake of her head. She however, saw Morrigan and it was that somewhat shocked, somewhat wrong way of looking she held on her face that finally clued Jarod into the fact that he wasn’t alone. He glanced over his shoulder and sighed with frustration. He shook his head as if he could not stop it, slowly and with much disapproval. “This is Morrigan.” He said as if he were introducing her all along. 

Morrigan had stayed close to him, when the spirits arrived she jumped slightly with each one. But they didn’t see her, she was in a place… that they did not see. But they saw Jarod. She watched as the warriors in the hall looked right through her, bowing to the male when he passed however. Only in the darkness of the hall did she truly see Jarod, the outline of his form aglow with that same odd azure light, the same, she noted, as the spirits that surrounded them. It was only when he said the word of his Mother that the dwarven woman appeared. And she… well she saw Morrigan. She looked right into her and Morrigan felt the odd sensation that she was absolutely not supposed to be there. Jarod glancing to her had thrown her a lifeline though it was quickly severed by the ghostly look in his eyes. It was as if he was of both worlds, desperate to join the spirits yet tethered by his living form. 

Juna took a step down from the platform, away from the pillar. She moved around this human female with an odd look on her face. A hand reached out but did not touch, merely hovered above Morrigan’s abdomen. Her voice too sounded far away yet all around them at the same time. “So young… “

Morrigan couldn’t be sure if Juna meant the babe or her, but she raised her brows and nodded anyway. “It is Jarod’s…” She felt the need, for some reason, to say that aloud.

Juna nodded knowingly and glanced at her son, who was studying the ground intently. Juna moved to him and gave him a swift slap upside the back of his head, her ghostly hand connecting with the light around him and flashing slightly. “Foolish boy.”

Jarod just took the hit, a nod given. “I know.” He took a ragged breath that ended on a sigh.

Morrigan wasn’t sure.. what that meant. There could be a few meanings and she wasn’t sure which the spirit intended. She just watched for now.

Juna shook her head again. “Jarod. Look at me.” When he did she continued. “You are the heir to the throne. You are the future of Our People. You will usher in a new age for Orzammar, what more could you want?”  
Jarod was walking in both worlds, half in… half out. His soul felt torn at its very core, the expression he wore was strained and his eyes… so vibrant yet… wrong, somehow. His voice sounding both far away and near. “I want a life that is mine!” He barked out, his spiritual self glowing brightly with the angered and desperate words.

Juna pursed her lips and looked on in disapproval. “You were born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations…” She started before he interrupted her.

“I know! Wear the crown, marry the noble woman who will loath me, fill my hall with the sounds of children, heirs to the throne to insure the continuation of my line. Listen to petty arguments, oversee Provings, issue punishments and rewards… and…” He glanced to Morrigan, for the first time giving her the impression that he truly saw her. “Never see her again. Never know whether my first born child is a daughter or a son… Never see their face, never look and know that they are the best parts of both their mother and myself.” Ethereal tears fell from his faraway eyes, there but not there, his soul weeping at the words. “Never touch her again…” His body shuddered under that pain.

Juna watched and listened, her heart aching for her son. “Correct.” That one word twisting in her throat as she whispered it.


	14. Dwarves Are Different

Morrigan watched on, she listened.. and cursed the tears that welled up. Of course it made sense to her now, but that understanding didn’t soften the blow any less. And Juna’s word sliced deep in her vulnerable state. “There must be another way…” She found herself whispering to the spirit(s). 

Juna looked to the human sharply, a single brow raised. Her tone far from gentle. “Why? You question and doubt your feelings for him, you fight against them, he is a detour in your otherwise perfect plan. Does he even know the true reason you joined him? Or is that another secret you have kept and dared to point the finger at him.” 

Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest defensively as Juna’s words echoed around them, the last causing the slightest kick of panic in the back of her mind. Of course the spirit would know these things… but it didn’t make it any easier. She chanced a glance to Jarod, who was piercing her with that intense gaze, waiting for a response. She directed it to him, not his Mother. “There is an ancient ritual… performed on the eve of battle before an archdemon is slain… I sought to perform this ritual and obtain the old god’s soul.” 

Jarod had a horrible feeling about this, ice settling in the pit of his stomach as she spoke. “What does this… ritual… involve?” 

Morrigan rolled her lips inward and chewed on both as they returned to their normal positions, her eyes glancing upwards before she continued. “Laying with a grey warden to produce a child. In that early state, the spirit of the old god would go into the child and I would leave… taking the prize with me.” 

Jarod struggled with the words, hearing them, he began turning away from her but his head lilting to the side just so as he listened. He looked down at his hands as his expression drew downwards in what could be considered disbelief mixed with a healthy dose of hurt as he riddled it out. “You… were going to use me… and then leave me without a word.” 

Morrigan, again, never being one to shy away from the unpleasant answered, her chin raised slightly as she held tight to the little bit of composure she still had. “Yes.” 

Jarod’s eyes slammed shut as he shook his head, the pain going deep. “Is there anyone in this world that will not try to use me as a tool in their plan…” He whispered low, not truly asking either of them. 

Juna listened and hated all of it, she didn’t want her son to hurt but he needed to know all the information so he could truly decide. “Jarod…” She stepped forward to try and get his attention, the pain she felt coming from him was… unexpected. She expected some hurt but this level of pain was… she looked confused for a moment. “You… didn’t give… this human your heart… did you?” The last spoken so quiet as if that would make the blow of the answer go over easier.

Jarod gave a bit of a chuckle, a sound of defeat as he glanced to his Mother. “Add that to the list of things I’ve done to doom myself.” He could already feel the cracking deep within his chest. 

“By the Void, Jarod!” Juna pinched at the bridge of her nose though she was far from feeling the physical strains of such an event. 

Morrigan couldn’t think properly upon hearing the admission. She felt the urge to run burning through her. This… declaration was… too much. She denied her feelings for him, Juna was right about that. She resisted it with every fiber of her being. She took a step backwards, looking to bolt. 

Juna pinned the human with a fierce gaze. “Do you love my son? Answer me now.” She commanded.

Morrigan looked between the two, panic evident in her gaze. The word spilled out, fueled by fear. “No.” Her heart screamed in agony at the lie but she had already given it. 

Juna slammed her own figurative eyes shut and bowed her head in sorrow as the walls around them trembled, rocked and groaned. 

Jarod heard the word… the denial.. and he felt it as if it were a thousand swords slicing into him at the same time. True, he had no room to feel this way, he had tried to drive her away… he thought it would somehow save her, protect her, save his people, give them the king they need and keep her away from the accusations, the angry words whispered behind her back, and allow her a life of freedom from the mountain. The road to hell and good intentions, all of that crap. He felt the crumbling within as he looked at Morrigan, one moment that seemed to stretch, his eyes showing the cool blue of ice to her for a moment, the pain they held… was unbearable. He didn’t say anything, his physical self stayed staring at her, eyes alive and pained. His ghostly self however, turned away from her, stepping away from him and just like that, the light in his corporal eyes went out. They dimmed, dulled to a clouded view. When he spoke, his physical self did not, his spirit behind him looking at Morrigan with such hurt and sorrow. “I will go no further. Leave this place.”

Morrigan watched in horror as he did… the unimaginable. She watched the light go out in his eyes, watched his spirit split from his body and heard the far off words, the ghostly sound echoing around them. “Jarod…” She began, not sure which… of him… to speak to. 

Juna had drawn away, standing back before the pillar, if she could weep, she would have. She would say no more as she simply stepped back into the stone, finding no reason to remain seen. 

Jarod’s spirit, the true part of him, shook his head. “This is a place for the dead. The living are not welcome.” He turned away from her and began wondering away, the halls around them had gone still and silent as he vanished.

Morrigan was thoroughly confused. She looked at the remaining Jarod, tried to get his attention. “Jarod…?” 

The male looked at her slowly, confusion evident. “Where… where am I?” He looked around just as slow. “I have no memory of this place…” 

Morrigan rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, desperate to feel his warmth. Only to find it was not there. He jerked out of her hold, looking at her with more confusion. 

“What are you doing, human?!” He straightened his clothes and thought her crazy, his tone saying just that. 

Morrigan looked down at him in disbelief. “…. I… what is the last thing you remember?” 

Jarod glanced around as he tried to think. “I remember being in the tunnels… you were there… but… I can’t remember why. We should get back, I don’t like this place… it’s dark...” He started past her only to have her hand on his shoulder stop him, which he jerked out from under. “Will you stop touching me woman!?” 

Morrigan was slowly beginning to understand, but just barely. “What do you remember… about me?”

“What about you? Witch, I don’t have time for this. We have to get those treaties signed and get the hell out of here. Will you stop looking at me like that?” He muttered something about crazy witches as he began to move away from her again, leaving her without a care and heading back for the city.

Morrigan was… stunned still. She watched him go and was startled when she heard Juna’s voice behind her, she jerked and turned at the words.

“He won’t know you.” Juna had stepped out once her son’s angry spirit had gone. 

“What… happened?” Morrigan was desperate for information, more so than ever.

“Dwarves are different, my dear. We love with our spirits, not our hearts as humans do. When you professed that you did not love him… his spirit left him. It broke away from the pain. Taking with it the love he had for you and your child, as well as the memories of it all. He will know no fear, no pain, and no desire to live. He will be one of the saquanhant. The soul-less ones. He will not be the King he was meant to be, he will not care for others… he will find no joy in this world until he is restored.” Juna’s words were soft and filled with sorrow.

Morrigan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But…” She looked down the way that the other Jarod, the corporal one, had gone. “I lied.” She whispered softly. 

“I know. Your ignorance to the severity of that lie… has cost him the highest price he could pay… for loving a human.” Juna hated the situation even more, she shook her head and stepped towards Morrigan. “The only hope he has… is if you can get his spirit to return to him. You will have to find it first… he has gone…. Deep into the mountain.” She whispered as she looked around as if searching for him. “He will not let me see… he has exiled himself. He will remain… in sorrow and pain… tortured for eternity unless… you can find him.” 

Morrigan took a steady breath. “I will. I will go now.” She started off only to feel the chilled touch of the ghostly woman.

“No. You are carrying precious cargo and the road to him is wrought with dangers that you have never known. Go back to the surface, ensure that they defeat this ancient evil… but do not throw yourself into battle. Deliver your child safely and when you can, only when his child is safe… seek him out. He will fight you… he will be twisted with anger. Come to me when you are truly ready and I will help you find him.” Juna reached and placed a hand over the woman’s abdomen. “My grandson grows…” She offered up a smile.

In that smile, Morrigan saw what had made her such a wonderful mother. She could be fierce yet gentle, she was a warrior but… tender. She showed her in that one gesture that Morrigan herself could be just that way. She could do this. “A son?” She whispered as she too covered her belly. 

“Yes.” Juna stepped away finally, pushing her feelings aside concerning this woman had been hard but she owed it to her son, she wanted to see him whole and this… this was where his heart laid. “Go to Orzammar, speak to Stanis. Tell him, these exact words, ‘Jarod’s spirit has returned to the stone, he is saquanant.’ He will know what it means and he will ask no questions. Tell him to seek out Dwarlen Cadash, a noble warrior in a far off Thaig, he will fight in the Proving and he will make a good King. Not as good as Jarod would have been.. but… a good one none the less. He will honor the treaties and lend Orzammar’s aid to the surface.” Juna feigned a sigh before she turned away, having given all the information she could, and disappeared into the rock face of the pillar.


	15. The Legionnaire

Morrigan listened and nodded, reminding herself to put one foot in front of the other, she returned to Orzammar and did just as Juna had said. The look in Stanis’ eyes however, she could have done without. The others noticed that Jarod was different, especially Alistair who tried to talk to his friend and even though Jarod responded as he always had with the male, it seemed as though his heart just wasn’t in it. Literally. Morrigan didn’t tell the others what had happened and when they went to Denerim, she took her leave of the group the final night before battle. She had done her task and left the group to defeat the archdemon. She was glad to leave in truth, she could no longer stand the way Jarod looked at her. As if she were a stranger. She disappeared into the wilds far to the west, finding it odd but welcoming that the Mabari that had adopted Jarod chose to go with her. The animal too felt the change in the Commander and even though Morrigan hadn’t been overly kind, the dog kept by her side and the witch welcomed the company. She learned that Jarod had returned to Orzammar, to join the Legion and continue to fight the darkspawn hoard that had sense retreated back to the deep roads. Morrigan found some peace in knowing that, at least he’d be relatively safe there. She’d heard from merchants that Dwarlen had indeed been named king and was restoring Orzammar and moving forward at the same time. She learned too that after the battle of Denerim, Alistair was named Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, having refused the throne and allowing the Queen regent to continue to lead Ferelden. 

On her travels, Morrigan was surprised to find so many apostates on the road, free of Templars. Word spread quickly that the Circles had risen up and left the Chantry. That made Morrigan give a bit of a grin but the word that the Templars had no one holding their leash took that grin away. She was thankful at least for finding a few Tranquil roaming the edges of the wild. She looked at these few, this trio of tranquil and thought, this… this is what Jarod was like… she pushed that out of her mind as she recruited them. Feeding them, clothing them, teaching them… and soon she had two women and a man keeping her company. Without question, without speculation, without feeling. If anything, they were efficient and she knew that they’d never betray her, they’d never hurt her or her soon to be born son, and that they would do as they were told. Over the months she had grown as close as she could with them. Sienna, Joleen, and Marcus were all counted among her most trusted, even though she knew that they didn’t truly care for her, they were incapable of it. The fact that they were more like slaves than companions wasn’t lost on her, but at least they were safe and she suspected that they somehow knew that she was protecting them, keeping them away from the fighting that plagued the outside world. 

Her son came into the world one night as a storm rolled through, thunder and lightning, high winds, the whole nine. He seemed to scream at the world, angry to be there, but he was healthy. Aided by her Tranquil companions, she was grateful for their presence more at that moment than ever before. Her long standing question concerning her son was answered the moment he arrived, the earth beneath her meager hut trembled, not much but it was there and she knew it wasn’t the lightning or thunder overhead, this came from deep within the earth. Her son was as tied to the stone as his father. She named him Kieran Duncan Aeducan. She felt that Jarod would appreciate that, knowing that he had much respect for the old Warden that had fallen at Ostagar. She waited almost a year before she decided it was time. She hated leaving Kieran but she had to go. She had to save his father, if she could. She wasn’t sure if the time it had taken would have any adverse effect on reuniting his spirit with his body but she had to try. She looked into her son’s vibrant blue eyes, seeing his father so prominent there, she passed him off to Sienna and reminded all three of their duties. She had left explicit instruction for them as well as enchanting a pair of messenger crows to be her voice while she was away. She set wards that would last years if need be and she finally left with the sun, confident that she had done all she could to protect them. As she left the wilds she looked at the mountain side and shaking her head at herself, she whispered to it. “Juna.. I don’t know if you can hear me…” She held her hand out and sent magic out to the cliff face, not entirely sure what she was doing as none of her research had yielded any information regarding the dwarves apparent secret. “I’m on my way.” Was all she said.. but as she walked away she got the distinct impression that she had been heard, though by whom, she only hoped it was her. 

Regaining entrance into Orzammar had been easier than she had thought it would be. This is what they must have meant by saying that Orzammar without a king was not the true Orzammar. The tone was different here, the atmospheres more relaxed though still starkly different from one another. She held her cloak tightly around her as she moved through the crowd, not even trying to ‘blend in’ in anyway, she had a few feet on any resident so naturally, people glanced her way. She shied away from them, having left her hood up and over, casting her face in shadow. It seemed like she was just following her feet, she had tried to comprise some semblance of a plan over these past months but she hadn’t gotten very far. She knew she must first find Jarod, his physical self. So she directed herself towards the Deep Roads entrance at the end of the commons. She held a hand up in greeting to the gatekeepers as she neared. A few well placed compliments and assurances had garnered her both entrance and a heading on where she might find the Legion. 

She traveled for weeks, seeing signs of both darkspawn and Legion both but not finding anything that was recent, nor did she hear anything among the endless tunnels. The underground highway was vast, beautiful, and lonely. She thought on how the dwarves must truly be a confident breed, to travel down here as often as they did, not fearing the silence. She made camp in the smaller caverns, finding old fire pits to use. She was shocked at herself, in truth. She missed Kieran so intensely that she fought with the idea of just returning to him. But she stayed… using the random tunnels to the surface to send and receive messages to the Tranquil keepers she left behind. From their words, Kieran was just fine and they had remained secluded with no incident. She knew that lying was beyond them. She was surprised how much comfort those short and few missives brought her. They eased the panic she felt clawing at her if only for a moment or two. It was enough to make it ebb and give her some momentary peace. 

It was on one of those nights, while she was searching for a suitable camp (cave) she heard someone… or something… approaching. She readied herself and soon was greeted with the sight of a small pack of darkspawn, hideous creatures that she loathed more than anything in this world. She was poised and ready but she didn’t get the chance to strike the first blow. He came seemingly out of nowhere, his ebony armor flashing as he cut through the creatures. She paused by a moment before sending a bolt through the remaining creature before it barred down upon him. She knew him, even with his helm, she knew him.


	16. Deeper Into Darkness

He had been making his rounds, going through the tunnels in no real direction. For some reason he couldn’t even begin to explain, he had felt this pull to leave the Legion’s stronghold some weeks ago and begin making way towards Orzammar. He didn’t know why. But he was used to that. Often he had feelings he couldn’t explain. Some days (or nights, really…) he would get this intense feeling that he was missing something… or someone… that he had forgotten something. That there was somewhere else he was supposed to be. He hated this.. existence of his. Others in the Legion had, more than once, had to jar him and remind him where he was and what he was doing. They suspected it was a Warden thing but in truth, it wasn’t. He would just be standing there and just start shaking his head as he tried to hold onto a thought but they would just slip away from him. After all this time, he had just fallen into the habit of just… going with it. Finding her… here… was the last thing he had expected. He stepped over the bodies of the darkspawn and tugged his helm off, having already sheathed his weapon. “Morrigan?... What… What are you doing here?” He didn’t understand… but again, that was business as usual. 

She took a deep breath at hearing her name in his voice after so long apart. “Looking for you.” She said simply enough. She wanted to elaborate but couldn’t quite form words just yet, she needed a minute. She stared at his foggy eyes… knowing that he was a vessel… without a soul. 

He just blinked a few times before speaking again, having drawn up closer to her. He noted the worn pack, the ragged look she carried and found that… he didn’t particularly care. “Well, you found me.” It didn’t even occur to him to ask why she was looking for him.

“Indeed.” She had been waiting for him to ask, dreading it was more like it. But he didn’t… and she was somewhat grateful for that but at the same time… it was just so odd. “I find myself in need of… assistance, dwarf. Follow me.” Was all she said, turning away and aiming for the tunnels she knew would guide her back to the Hall of the dead, that she remembered at all was amazing.

He stared after her for a moment, glanced behind him, sniffed the air… and just followed. In many ways he was like the Tranquil she had left behind in the wilds. He didn’t care either way… here, there, with her or without, made no difference to him. It was an odd sensation, this feeling of being… empty. He followed her down the winding tunnels, dispatching darkspawn when they found them, camping for awhile when they didn’t. He took his rest leaning against the stone walls, not even bothering to remove his armor or put down his weapon, his sleep was… still, too still. 

Morrigan watched him as he slumbered, noting how… dead he appeared. She resisted the urge to shake him awake more than once, she focused so intently on his beard to watch the hair of his mustache move slightly with each of his breaths, if not for that… she would have truly thought him dead. She couldn’t say how long they traveled, only that it felt like an eternity for the way she suffered under his indifferent gaze. She couldn’t help but remember… and those memories vexed her. She had entertained the thought more than once to simply leave, leave him as he is… walk away, be free of these… pesky feelings. But she could no more do that than leave Kieran forever. So she pressed on, until they reached the Hall.

Jarod followed… he didn’t speak or interact in anyway. He found it odd that the witch kept looking at him when she thought he couldn’t see her, the softness in her gaze made little sense to him. When they arrived at the Hall he looked at the massive doors, a memory scratching just below the surface of his grasp. “I’ve been here before… I think.” 

Morrigan nodded to him and pushed the massive door open just far enough and made her way through the darkness, the spirits around them ignored them completely. Unlike the previous visit, it was as if they weren’t there at all. She moved around those that did not see her and glanced behind her, nearly shocked that Jarod just walked right through them. She shook her head and then made way for the pillar. She took a few steps forward and reached a glowing hand out, mana coming to the surface of her fingertips as she touched the cold stone. “Juna…” She murmured softly.

Jarod watched the witch look around them at… nothing at all. He didn’t see anything but an empty hall. Darkness that was pressing though, only a fool would think there was nothing hiding in the shadows. He watched her still when she used her magic, not curious but confused as to what she hoped to achieve in this place of nothing.

Juna stepped out of the stone simply, looking to Morrigan she purposefully avoided looking at the broken vessel of her son. “Morrigan… I received your message. I’ve found him.” 

Morrigan released a relieved breath. “Where is he?” 

Jarod’s brows rose slightly as he took on that expression of ‘okay… with a crazy lady…’. For to him, Morrigan was speaking to herself. “Where’s who?” 

Morrigan glanced at him distractedly but returned her attention Juna, waiting for her answer.

“I can lead you to him… but Morrigan… you must understand that to him… time is relative. He hasn’t come to terms with himself nor his guilt. He’s twisted with it… you must be able to reach him. If you can’t convince him to return to himself… I fear that no one will be able to reach him.” Over the months, Juna had watched over her son’s spirit, found him then lost him again as he wondered endlessly. She felt his pain, she felt his desperation, his anger… and his disappointment but she knew it was directed at himself. His guilt… it was tearing him up and driving him further into madness. 

Morrigan gave a nod and gestured for Juna to lead the way, glancing to Jarod she spoke to his spiritual mother. “What about… do we bring him?” 

Juna nodded as she drifted past, leading them down a corridor and away from the Hall. She led them deeper into the mountain, into the Thaig that the dead inhabited. Spirits going about their ‘day’ as they did everything they could to come to terms with themselves, their deeds, or just simply existing doing the various tasks they set upon themselves. Guiding their houses and descendants was a popular past time. She led them past this area of activity, further… deeper… into the darkness. The bowels of this place where the truly tortured could often be found.


	17. The Pull of Madness

Morrigan followed, staying close to this ethereal woman, looking on at the various spirits as they passed. She glanced behind her, making sure that Jarod… or rather, his vessel, was still following as well. He was, though from the way he was look straight ahead, she knew that he saw none of them. She had the urge to reach behind her and take his hand but she resisted, sure that he’d just jerk out of her touch again. She grew more nervous as they left behind the city of sorts, even more so when they descended into the never ending darkness. “He’s… down here?”

Juna nodded over her shoulder, her very nature seeming to light the way for them. “Yes, child…” She pointed with one sweeping hand, to a gentle glow in the distance, at the bottom of a great set of stairs that have long sense fallen into disrepair.

He was standing at the edge of the chasm, looking down into nothing. His fists clinching and relaxing repeatedly as he fumed. Self hatred etched across his soul as he murmured to himself, words of anger and sorrow, disappointment and despair, all of these things that he felt so intensely. He didn’t notice that he had ‘visitors’, even when Morrigan descended the stairs and stood near him.

“Jarrod?” She whispered gently, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t too far gone to hear her.

“Leave me, witch.” He ground out over his shoulder. His vessel having sunk to sit on the steps, lulled into a sort of trance as Juna stood beside him. He looked at them, those two figures at the top of the stairs before turning to face Morrigan properly. “Why have you come?”

Morrigan took a heavy breath, a relief on her heart when she heard him speak, when she heard the feeling behind it. “I’ve come to restore you.” She gestured to his vessel.

He followed her gesture and looked again, shaking his head. “It’s too late.”

Morrigan shook her head. “No.. it’s never too late.” She reached out for him only to find her hand drift right through his shoulder, she gave a pained expression as her body shuddered. “Please, Jarod…”

He just shook his head again, turning away from her. “No. This is where I belong…” He began murmuring again, cursing himself and all he had done, none of which weighted as heavily upon him as what he had done to her.

Morrigan looked to Juna, who mirrored her concerned expression but the ghostly woman gave her a gesture to try again. “Jarod… look at me.” She had half a mind to yell and scream at him but she had the distinct impression that that would only add fuel to the flame. So she took a gentler approach. She moved to stand beside him, setting a hand on the retaining wall that separated them from the belly of the mountain.

He didn’t… he just stared down and kept mumbling to himself. He just looked so… angry and confused. Morrigan spoke again somewhere, but he couldn’t focus on her, all he heard was what he had said and what she had said… she didn’t love him. She didn’t. She had said as much. “Go away…” He finally murmured loud enough for her to hear.

“No. I will not go away.” She said simply as she tried to catch his eye. “Look, Jarod, will.. you.. just… look at me!” She kept bobbing her head this way and that, stepping into his line of sight, which of course he kept looking away, avoiding her.

His tortured gaze snapped towards her, his features twisted as he responded in kind, though he remained silent, the doubts and instant-replays still bounced around his mind.

Morrigan breathed a sigh of relief, if only a moment though the pain she saw there still tore at her. “I lied, Jarrod… I… I do love you. I did then… and I still…”

He just sneered at her, disbelief flashing. “More lies.” He hissed and returned his attention to the darkness, swaying slightly as he continued muttering. He was beyond approach it seemed.

Morrigan’s eyes slid shut as she felt a hitch in her chest, brushing away a stray tear as she cursed in her own mind. She took a ragged breath before speaking again, trying a different approach. “I named him Kieran Duncan Aeducan…. I thought you’d like that. I know how you respected Duncan…” She said low as she looked out over the vast nothing.

Up on the stairs Juna crossed her hands over her heart and wore a sorrowful expression but one of longing more than despair. Yes… keep talking Morrigan… she willed the woman to continue.

Jarrod stilled at her words… but he did nothing more.

Morrigan didn’t seem to notice. “He has your eyes… they’re so blue.. Jarod.. I swear it’s like the sky is trapped in them. His hair is dark… like mine and yours really… no curls yet, but he might still have them. He has this laugh…” She ignored the tears gathering in her eyes as she held a longing smile and shook her head slightly. “It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard… and he thinks walnuts are the funniest thing ever… how silly is that.” She sniffled slightly before continuing. “He’s not afraid of.. anything, Jarod.. he’s so brave… braver than I am. He just start walking… he looks like a little fawn the way he stumbles around. When he was first born I was sure something was wrong each time he cried… I was convinced that I was doing something wrong… but.. I wasn’t. The only thing that would calm him down…” She shook her head with a bit of a laugh, wiping away one of her tears. “Was wrapping him in one of your old tunics that I took with me… it’s like he… misses you… like he knows you.” She looked down as she put her chin to her shoulder, not daring to look at him. “We both miss you… and we both need you… whole. I know that you’re hurting.. and that it’s my fault… but… please… give me a chance to show you that I’m telling the truth when I say that I do love you…” She whispered the last, a hitch causing the words to bounce a bit as she wiped at more tears, not even bothering to curse them this time.

Juna felt her own chest proverbially hitch at the words before she looked to the spirit of her son, who had gone so still beside Morrigan.

Jarrod didn’t want to hear the words but the mention of the name… had stilled him like nothing ever could have. Too soon, ethereal tears formed and rolled down his there but not there cheeks. Longing so profound pulled at him. The information that his son thought walnuts were funny had a smile form and a silent laugh for a second come forth, which cracked through the exile. He listened to her… and once done he closed his eyes with a pained expression. He shook his head and then just vanished.


	18. Take Me Home

Morrigan closed her eyes and strained, covering her mouth as she sank down and let it out, crying silently into herself. Feeling her heart break with the way he disappeared. Her sobs came quietly at first but soon audible as she rocked with the force of them. Her grip on the stone harsh as she tried to catch a breath but couldn’t seem to. She startled to her bones when she felt a rough hand on her shoulder, looking up wide-eyed with disbelief before she crumbled all over again. 

Jarod, whole again, stood above her, having left his breastplate and greaves on the stairs. His pained expression looking down at her, the light in his eyes evident as they were clear. “Morrigan…” His graveled voice low and full of unspent emotion as he sank down beside her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly and reveling in the feeling of her skin against him. His cotton padding cushioning the way she crushed herself against him and held tight to him so fiercely it was a wonder either of them could even breath. 

Juna drifted down and laid a hand on her son’s shoulder and offered a nod which was returned by him before she simply vanished, returning to the stone to leave them. 

A few days later saw Jarod emerging from Orzammar, leaving his legion armor at the door and his arm wrapped around Morrigan’s waist as he took the first breath of fresh air in a year. He looked up to her and pulled her for the millionth (it seemed) kiss since he’d come back to himself. “Take me home.” He said quietly against her lips.

Morrigan hadn’t said much beyond apologize and declarations, much like him, she was content to put the entire ordeal behind them and get back to their son. The kiss was returned and she nodded to his sentiment. “Gladly.” She ran her hands through his longer hair and gave a tug at his beard. “We’ll have to discuss the beard.” 

Jarod ran a hand down it. “What? It’s… traditional?” He offered up with a sort of smile and shrug. 

Morrigan gave a healthy laugh, she couldn’t help it. “Perhaps.” And they began their long trip back home. 

The first night they camped, he allowed her to trim his hair and at least do the same to the beard, and he had to admit, he felt more like himself once it was done. He ran his hand over it all and nodded to her in thanks. He lounged by the fire and watched her as she went about tending the stew. “Marry me.” The words rumbled out of him without hesitation and without pressure, just simply came forth seemingly of their own. 

Morrigan indeed felt that he looked more like himself and was pleased to see the ease in which he relaxed there by the fire. She was sprinkling some herbs into the stew when the words came and she dropped the whole handful, cursed and began spooning them out gingerly. Her mind stuttered around as she slapped the wooden spoon against the iron lip of the pot before setting it aside and turning to look at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” He couldn’t help the amused grin he wore, he had his fingers laced behind his head and his ankles crossed as he had been stretched out though now he sat up a bit more and held a hand out to her, pulling her near when she took it. 

Morrigan was… stunned into silence it seemed. She took his hand out of a desire to be close, still shaken from their time apart. She allowed him to pull her near and before she knew it, he had her in his lap, settled astride him comfortably. She had her hands settled on his cotton covered chest easily as she searched for the right words. “I… why?”

Once on his lap, he slid his arms around her and held her there, just as she… comfortably. “Because I love you… and I want you to.” He felt his pulse kick up with her so near and knew that having her there on his lap was probably a rotten idea, but he couldn’t bear to remove her. “I want you to be mine.” He tilted his head a bit as he looked up at her, his tone serious but still.. easy. He settled his hands on her lower back, splaying his fingers to cover more of her. 

She felt her insides knot at the proposal… or lack of one. He wasn’t asking her, not really. But he was? Wasn’t he? She supposed it was as much of a proposal as he could give. “I’m already yours.” She answered, coming to the same conclusion as he that perhaps her being so near to him was not the best of ideas. Her skin pricked at his nearness, her body responding feverishly to him. “Why must you insist on an archaic ritual?”

He gave her a sort of shrug type frown. “Because I know… as much as you want to deny it… seeing a ring on my finger and knowing that you put it there will bring you joy.” He ran his hands further down to rest on her tailbone, massaging her through her traveling clothes. “To carry my surname behind your first… to have the world know that you are mine and that I am yours… to have our son have a proper family…” He felt himself grow between them as he leaned towards her. “Need I go on?” He kissed her jaw line gently.

Morrigan knew what he was doing, oh she knew. Seducing her to get what he wanted! That fiend. Just because he happened to be right didn’t… well, okay so it mattered. She felt him at the juncture of her thighs and her body roared to life, his hands working tired muscles, and his voice rolling over her like it had so many times before. The kiss had a chill flow over her skin as she sighed quietly, a tenderness she remembered well. “But… how? I mean… who would… oversee it?” She was quickly losing the ability to form sentences as he continued his wicked ways, her arms moving to encircle his shoulders and pull him even closer.


	19. Jarod Aeducan Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to drawing Jarod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to drawing Jarod, here he is!

  
[Jarod Aeducan](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/What-do-you-want-Woman-625822133) by [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  



	20. Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artwork

  
[Like His Mother Before Him](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Like-His-Mother-Before-Him-654882801) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


End file.
